Magneto's Return
by Secret Identity
Summary: My dad wrote this. It takes place after X3. The cure doesn't seem to have worked. Powers seem to be returning. And someone is not dead. But who? Chapter 11 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: My dad is writing this story, and he does not own X-Men.**

He walked every day to the park to play chess with "no one." He played both sides, one day playing the black pieces, the next white. It seemed only normal to him. No one ever tried to join him in the game. As a matter of fact, they seemed to ignore him; or at most, they never paid attention to him. He preferred it that way. No one ever bothered the chess board, so he left it in place. The pieces were metal and heavy. It would take a strong wind to knock them over. He "played" the only one he ever called friend, at least the one who he remembered as a friend. That friend was dead, killed unnecessarily.

He missed his friend.

Today he was playing the black pieces. He had been sitting for hours observing the board, planning his next move. He grinned and put his hand ever so slightly above a pawn.

The chess piece wobbled.

The old man eyed it, his hand still hovering just above the piece.

_Did I just see what I think I saw?_ He thought. He concentrated. The piece moved again.

More concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead._Move,_ he thought, closing his eyes.

The chess piece slid to the next space. He opened his eyes. Wide.

He smiled.

* * *

It was still a maximum security women's prison. Even though she had helped the government arrest and subdue the world's most dangerous man, they still sentenced her to life behind bars without any chance for parole. It stunned her. Surely she should've been given a more decent sentence! "No," the judge had said, "You're lucky the death penalty isn't being invoked for your crimes against mutants and humans alike." With that, he banged the gavel, ending her trial and what was definitely the rest of her life.

To her it seemed as if it had been years that had passed when, in reality, it had only been a few months. Still, though, solitary confinement was driving her crazy. The warden had decided to "punish" her for her role in the deaths of so many. She recalled his words, "A piece of filth like you deserves no better. You can rot in that little room for the rest of your life for all I care." He turned to leave, saying, "And don't expect any sympathy from _anyone_ here."

Day after day it was the same. There was a sink, a toilet, in the one-room cell, and her bunk. Nothing else. The only "window" was down low in the door, where they passed her food in. She could hear the others as they passed by. How she wanted out! Just to see someone, _anyone_. The matron that brought her food today appeared to be in a jovial mood. Out of curiosity (and desperation), she said, "Please? May I ask a favor?"

The guard bent down and frowned at her. "What do you want. Slime?"

"Please," she said. "I haven't seen my face or been able to comb my hair decently since I've been in. I'm only asking for a compact mirror to see myself. Please?"

The guard hesitated.

"Please? I'll only keep it long enough to comb my hair, then you can have it back."

The guard sighed. "Well, I'm feeling pretty good today. This is against the rules, but…five minutes. No more. Anymore than that and I'll come in there and beat it out of your hands."

"Five minutes, thank you."

The guard looked around. Nobody was watching. She passed the mirror into the woman. She took it with excitement. Finally! Someone to look at, even if it is her own reflection. She grabbed her brush and started fixing her hair. Outside the cell, the guard was talking. "Hurry up, Slime. I ain't got all day. If I get caught, you're really gonna get it."

"Okay, okay," she said, starting to hand it back. Something in the mirror caught her eye. She stopped, looking at her neck. She moved her head a bit, glancing down with her eyes. It was obvious. They were definitely there. She smiled, handing the mirror back. "Thank you."

The guard snagged the mirror from her. "You're not welcome."

She glanced out the opening, eyed the guard.

"Bitch," she said, her hand caressing the small blue nodules forming on her neck.

_

* * *

Where am I? he thought. __And how did I get here?_ His head hurt. Bad. He tried to open his eyes. When he did there was a burst of red light. Not sure where it came from, he closed his eyes. He tried again. The same red burst of light again. That light seemed to intensify the pain in his head. _Might as well keep 'im closed,_ he thought. he thought. His head hurt. Bad. He tried to open his eyes. When he did there was a burst of red light. Not sure where it came from, he closed his eyes. He tried again. The same red burst of light again. That light seemed to intensify the pain in his head. he thought. 

He felt the cool grass beneath him. It felt good on his skin. Then he realized his clothes were torn. _What happened to my clothes? Ow. Boy, my head is killing me. Feel like I've been on a drinking binge._ But had he? He didn't remember drinking. _Where the hell am I? It's definitely out in the open, or, at least, in the woods. I remember. . . looking for someone. Who was it? Damn. I wish I could open my eyes and look around. But that light hurts. It feels like it's inside my head._

_How long have I been here? I remember. . . leaving the school. When was that? What day is it? Come on, think! Why am I out here? I came looking for . . ._

The name flashed through his mind.

_Jean. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, you wanted an update! Luckily, my dad writes fast!**

Eric walked home slowly. His mind was still on that chess piece. It moved with the power of his mind. Or did it? He was still thinking over the situation, still trying to determine if he had actually touched the pawn. "In chess the pawns always go first."

_No,_ came the thought. _I didn't touch it. I moved it with a thought. My hand wavered above it. _

He noticed that his pace had increased. It was a much brisker walk to home now. He grinned and started whistling as he climbed the steps up to the front door.

* * *

Moira MacTaggart hit the intercom in the lab. "Orderly!" she cried.

A young man poked his head in the door. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Keep everyone out of here. I need to examine our patient closer."

"Yes, ma'am."

As the door closed, Dr. MacTaggart turned to look at the male patient in the hospital bed. This man had no sentient thought, no way to communicate, yet she heard a distinctive, recogni-zable voice.

"Charles?" she questioned again.

_Yes, Moira, it's Charles,_ came the reply. Moira MacTaggart's legs wobbled. She held onto the bed frame to keep from falling. She had seen many things, observed many different mutants. But the man on the bed was _not_ a mutant. He was an unfortunate Homo Sapiens born with a huge handicap. But the voice that Moira MacTaggart knew as Charles Xavier emanated from this man.

"How, Charles? How are you here? We all thought you were dead."

_My body is, Moira. Only my consciousness remained, my "soul," if you will._

"But this man. . ."

_Was dying._ Charles completed the sentence before she could. It was then Moira realized that the man's mouth wasn't moving. Charles was communicating with her telepathically. She straightened herself, folding her arms across her chest, staring at the man in the bed with the consciousness of Charles Xavier.

"He has a family."

_They have deserted him. He has no one. The monitors were showing death in this man. He had no higher level brain functions. He could not be taught to eat, to go to the bathroom, or anything that requires the simplest of thoughts. He was being kept alive solely by machines. My students and I previously discussed this case._

"In your ethics class, no doubt."

_No doubt._

"Isn't this unethical, Charles? Taking over someone else's life?"

_There is no life here, Doctor. How can one have a life constantly hooked up to machines?__ He has had no life since his birth._

Dr. MacTaggart sighed and rolled her eyes.

_Rolling your eyes at my logic again, Moira?_

She looked sternly at the patient. "I never could fool you, Xavier. Even with my back to you, you always knew me."

_Yes, I have. And that is one reason I came here. We have a problem developing._

"What type of problem?"

_Magneto is back._


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, here's chapter three! Good thing my dad's pretty much got this story planned out!**

She had not known tenderness in a very long time, not since her powers developed in her. Marie knew that no one could feel the way she did, not being able to touch someone, anyone. It was especially tough during her early teens, not being able to hug her mother or father, or just to walk hand in hand with a boy. It became worse later on, when more intimate desires rose in her.

She thought of Bobby. The young man was so wonderful, always, it seems, looking out for her. He had wanted to embrace her, to touch her, to kiss her. He went so far as to give her a pair of long opera gloves that had belonged to his grandmother. It was such a sweet gesture, especially when she saw the look in his eyes that told her he would do anything to be near her.

But the gloves were not a magic cure. Whatever made her think that they were? What made Bobby think that? He had kissed her so lightly on the lips, holding her, actually "touching" her, that it seemed the gloves made her "normal" again. She and Bobby had both went for a longer kiss, only for her powers to kick in and nearly kill him. It was then that she wished she were normal, that this curse on her was gone.

And now it was. Marie had apologized to him, saying, "I'm sorry. I had to." He had sympathized with her by taking her ungloved hand in his and smiling at her. She loved that beautiful smile.

Marie was able to stay at the Institute, because Storm and the other mutants had opened it up to all gifted youngsters, not just those with mutant abilities. The curriculum at the school challenged all to think, to excel in all their endeavors. And it provided a place for those without a home almost free of charge. There was work to be done, and the older teens and young adults had chores to do. It took a lot to keep a four story building clean and neat.

There was the laughter, the crying, the good times with all, mutant and human. A few bad times, but the good seemed to far outweigh the bad, at least to Marie.

And there was Bobby. _Her_ Bobby. Everyone knew they were an item, not unlike Brad and Angelina or some other famous couple. That's how she viewed them. After all, they were celebrities. They were the X-Men! At least, she had been. She settled now for being a gifted youngster in her studies, not in those unmissed powers. She saw the look in Bobby's eyes and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her. He truly loved her. _Perhaps,_ she mused, _if he's lucky_ (she giggled), _I'll let him make me Mrs. Bobby Drake_. That made her laugh out loud. When she realized it, she covered her mouth, glancing left and right to see if she disturbed anybody.

She put her hand down in her lap and leaned forward giggling. She was in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed. No one else was around. Now she leaned backward, falling on the bed laughing. It was an awesome thought. _Me! Mrs. Bobby Drake!_

There was a knock on her door. She sat up, clearing her throat and straightening her blouse. "Come in," she said.

The door opened and there stood her love and intended. Bobby smiled and said, "What are you laughing about? I heard you through the door."

Marie blushed. "Oh, nothing," she replied, muffling a giggle.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Girls," he said blandly, taking a seat next to her on the bed. Marie punched his arm. Hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" he questioned her, rubbing his arm.

"What do you mean, 'girls?'"

His features softened. He smiled at her, putting his hand in hers. The remark got the reaction he wanted. She so enjoyed his touch. "I was kidding, Marie. Sorry."

She lowered her eyes and then raised them again to look at him. His touch made her feel so alive. "Sorry I punched you."

"It's okay. You hit like a girl."

She had looked away again when he said that. She flared her eyes at him. "What! Bobby Drake, I'm gonna get you!"

He was startled with that reaction and pulled back slightly, which is what she wanted. Marie side-lunged at him, knocking onto the bed and she proceeded to pin him to it and tickle him. She had recently discovered that weak spot in him and had nearly always taken advantage of it when they were alone. Every once in a while, in the hallway, passing between classes, she would goose him just to make him yelp.

She held the advantage over him for the moment. Bobby could hardly breathe because she was tickling him so much and he enjoyed the laughter. He enjoyed making her do these things. Marie had been without physical contact for so long and he wanted to make her life as special as he could. But enough was enough. He had to breathe, so he started "chilling" her, literally. She felt it and knew that signaled he had had enough. She stopped and went to pull away from him. He grabbed her and said, "Not so fast, Missy. You owe me an apology."

"I owe _you_? Are you crazy, Drake? You started this!"

"Well, at least you could do is kiss me," he said, his eyes showing his grief that she hadn't though of that. Marie noticed the fake pitiful look and gave in, leaning into him and planting a kiss on his mouth. Bobby wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

_Hmm,_ he thought, _this is much better_. He deepened the kiss. Marie responded by shifting her head slightly. She moved her arms to drape around his shoulders. She believed this to be the deepest kiss they ever shared, and she meant to enjoy every second of it.

But something, Bobby realized, was wrong. All of a sudden he was weak, and getting weaker still. It was as if Marie were tickling him again, but he knew she wasn't. He was having trouble breathing and it felt as if the life were being drained from him.

Then Marie noticed it. She thought, _No, it can't be. Something's wrong with Bobby._ She felt the chill inside her. Soon it wasn't a chill. She felt the cold. She jerked away from him, standing almost immediately. Her hands were hard ice. She looked at the bed. Bobby was very pale and fighting for air. His hand was on his chest and he was gasping now. Fright covered Marie's face. She shook her head in disbelief. "No," she whispered, "no, it can't be."

"Bobby?" she asked nervously. He lifted his head and looked at her, fear and dismay on his face.

"NO," she screamed aloud. She was backing away from the bed toward the door. "I. . . can't. . . I won't let it. . ." She felt the tears running down her cheeks. Marie turned, throwing open the door. She hit the hallway on a dead run.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, people, here's chapter four! Don't worry; my dad won't make you wait long. (I can only post these chapters when he allows it.)**

_I can't lie here forever, _Scott thought. He attempted to get up. Raising his head quickly brought a new round of pain. He put his right hand on his forehead and lowered his head. He remained still until the light-headedness and pain went away.

_Okay, let's try this again. Only slower. Much slower._

It worked this time. Scott was able to rise up to support himself on his left elbow. _Okay. So far, so good._

The pain in his head was subsiding, even though quick movements caused a rush of new pain. Not being able to open his eyes was going to make it difficult to leave the lake area. He definitely couldn't drive the cycle back. That meant one thing, walking. And that would be difficult, too. First things first. He had to get oriented. Although Alkali Lake wasn't fit for swimming or fishing or much of anything else, camping was great. It was one of his favorite spots, or, at least, had been. Now it only brought bad memories of Jean.

Jean. Where had she gone? And why did she leave him alone, hurt and in need of attention? _Well, I'll find out when I see her at the school._

Scott felt his way through the trees. The sun on his skin told him it was afternoon by the amount of heat it generated. The mornings were always cool at Alkali Lake. If it was afternoon, then the sun was in the west. That gave him the direction he needed to get to the main road. Slowly, he started toward it. It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

She had shed herself of the prison uniform. She definitely preferred the mutant life. Her blue skin shimmered to her. It was more then beautiful. To her, it was gorgeous. She realized that with that blue skin came her power of morphing and her strength, a newfound strength that the guards and this whole damned prison was about to discover, including the idiot warden. Raven Darkholme was now dead. Let her be that way. Mystique was back and not the government nor any of the population would stop her. First, though, it was time to plan her escape. _

* * *

I have to get a message to the school, Moira. I __need to get to the school._

"Charles, this body has never been out of a bed. We exercise it to keep a human shape so the muscles don't atrophy, but walking? I don't think it can."

_Then I'll have my chair brought to the island. I must get to Cerebro._

Dr. MacTaggart paced back and forth, her arms crossed over her chest while she observed the floor she was walking on. "For what?"

_I can feel Magneto, but I don't know exactly where he is. His power is not fully developed._

"Charles, he was given the cure. He . . ."

Xavier cut her off. _The cure did not work. It appears to be only a temporary fix._

Moira stopped at the end of the bed and stared at him. "Then that means all the mutants who survived the onslaught at Alcatraz are reverting back to their mutations."

_Yes, it does. And they're going to be angry._

"Mystique," Moira said, her eyes shifting left and right as she glared at the floor.

_What about her?_

She raised her head. "Charles, she was sentenced to life in prison without parole."

_And?_

"It was a standard maximum security women's prison. They're not capable of handling mutants. It's a prison just for humans."

_They must be warned, Moira._

"I'll get on it," she replied, heading for the door. "I just hope we're not too late."

* * *

Eric was preparing his dinner. It had been an interesting day, the results of which left a smile on his face. Life was changing for him. Again. He took his plate to the dining table and seated himself at the head end. He had chosen water for his beverage tonight instead of the glass of wine he normally had with dinner. He had considered the change on the way home. One's senses don't need to be dulled, he reasoned. 

He picked up his fork and knife and cut into the steak. Raising a piece to his mouth, he stared at the fork. His eyes narrowed and the fork bent in two. Eric placed it back on the plate, then pushed the plate away. He rested his elbows on the table, his hands folded over in a semi-prayer position. He closed his eyes. In less than a minute, he reopened them, adjusted everything on the table, and went to get a new fork.

_Lord Magnus is back,_ he thought.

Blocks away, in the park, the chess board was different. Each piece, except for the black king, was flattened down to less than an inch thick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, here's chapter five! My dad appreciates all the reviews.**

Marie was still running, taking the stairs down to the main floor quickly. Wolverine stopped her at the base of the staircase.

"Whoa, girl!" he said, grabbing for her. "What's the hurry?"

Marie tried to twist herself free. "Let me go, Logan! Let me go!"

"Marie, calm down! What is it?" he replied, restraining her by tightening his grip on her arms.

She couldn't look at him. The tears were still coming and she was sobbing and trembling. "It's Bobby! I killed him, Logan! I killed him!" She wrenched free as he relaxed his grip with the shock of that news. Marie bolted for the front door in the great foyer of the mansion and ran out, crying and sobbing the entire time.

Logan stared at the door for a moment and then looked up the stairs. Ororo Munroe came out of her office and approached the Wolverine.

"Was that Marie, Logan?"

He didn't look at her, just searched the floor as if looking for an answer. "Yeah. Yeah, it was," he replied.

Storm looked puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"We've got to get to Bobby," he said, heading up the stairs. Ororo stood still for an instant then followed him upstairs.

* * *

The prison matron that had lent her the compact a couple of days ago was bringing the midday meal again today. _Good_, thought Mystique. _This ought to be easy._

The matron stopped at the door to Raven's cell and called out, "Lunchtime! Get it while it's hot!" She proceeded to push the tray into the opening. Something stopped it. She looked down. "What the hell are you doing, Slime? It's lunch."

"Not hungry," came the reply and another nudge on the tray.

"Going on a hunger strike, eh? Well, makes no difference to me. Starve if you want to."

"You got any clean linens on the cart? You keep forgetting to give me any. The bed linens haven't been changed in months."

"Yeah, I got some, but I gotta open the cell to get 'em in. They won't fit through that little opening. Back away."

The matron only saw Raven Darkholme. She had no idea that the woman had her powers back. Mystique was careful when they came around to disguise herself. None of them suspected a thing.

Mystique backed up against the far wall. She heard the lock open and the matron stepped in, carrying the sheets to the bed and unceremoniously dropping them on the floor. She stripped the bed in one grab, the mattress turning out onto the floor.

"There ya go. Make it up yourself," she exclaimed, starting out the door.

Mystique made her move and lunged on the guards back, her hand covering the woman's mouth to prevent her from screaming out. Quickly she drug the guard back into the cell and changed into her true form. The guard looked down to see the hand and arm holding her turn blue.

Mystique whispered in her ear, "Make one false move, one sound, and I'll snap your neck. Then I'll tear you apart. Nod if you understand." The guard nodded, her eyes wide. "Good," Mystique continued. "Now, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth. Remember, one yell and you're dead."

Slowly, Raven moved her hand. The guard sucked in her breath. "Please," she said, "I . . .I don't want to die."

"Aww, poor dear," Raven smirked. She looked angry. "I HATE begging!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I . . . I won't do it again."

Mystique repositioned her hands around the guard's head, her left on the forehead, palm down, and the right on the guards chin. The guard knew exactly what was about to happen. She started to cry.

"Please, M. . .Mystique, don't do this."

Mystique held herself still for a moment, leaned into the guard's ear. "You know what?" she asked, "I'm feeling pretty good today."

The guard trembled. "That's nice. That. . .that's good."

"For you, it is," she replied. Mystique twisted the woman's head so fast that the neck snapped clean. Instantly the guard went limp in her hands. She let her slump to the floor.

Mystique stood tall, observed the corpse before her, and took on its appearance. She grabbed the guard's ID and badge. "I decided to kill you quick," she said, moving the body totally inside the cell. She put her in a corner where she would not be automatically seen, then stepped out into the corridor. "The guard" finished her rounds and went "home" at the end of her shift. Once clear of the prison, Mystique changed back to her gorgeous blue skin.

"Now to find that bastard that left me in the back end of a prison truck," she said.

* * *

Scott had made it to the road. It definitely hadn't been easy. He might as well have been blind. _This'll teach me to not bring the spare shades or my visor._ Seeing a "blind" man fumbling on the side of the road turned out to be a blessing, though, as the first car to pass him stopped and offered help. He accepted the ride into New York City. That would put him an hour away from the school.

The car had stopped around 42nd St.

"We're going the opposite direction from you," the couple told him. "We'll have to let you out here."

Scott thanked them and stepped out onto the curb. As they drove off, he hailed a taxi. That seemed to take forever. Finally one pulled over. He climbed in and said, "The Xavier Institute, please," and the cab sped away.

* * *

Eric rose earlier than he normally did. He washed, shaved, and dressed, getting ready for his morning walk. He always did a morning walk before breakfast. He took his overcoat off the coat rack by the front door and reached to open the door. He stopped and stared at the doorknob, then grinned. Turning around, he removed his coat and hung it back on the coat rack. A change in routine was not his norm, but today was different, and he knew it. He fixed a light breakfast, ate, washed the dishes, and headed for the attic.

It was stowed away in one of the many trunks up there. Rummaging through nearly all of them, he finally found what he was looking for. He closed the trunk and headed downstairs with his treasure. He entered his bedroom and closed the door.

Minutes later, he emerged, dressed in his black clothes and cape. He strolled to the front door, turning the knob with his mind. It opened and Magneto walked out of his house.

"I think I'll go see some old acquaintances in District X," he declared.

* * *

**Look for chapter six around Monday. (Note: Ch. 6 is the longest so far, a little over six pages.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**For all those who just couldn't wait 'til Monday, here's chapter six. Enjoy!**

Moira had two of her top assistants help her remove the wires and IVs from the person now known as Charles Xavier. "Joe" as everyone had called him previously, had been sustained nourishment wise by IV fluids and a feeding tube to his stomach. He could eat normally, sure, but had been very messy in the process. Dr. MacTaggart had decided a feeding tube was simpler considering that "Joe" was seldom out of the bed. His only time was to take a short walk inside the infirmary to a workout area for exercise. It was in this way that he stayed somewhat toned physically.

All body functions from the various readings she had been taking were normal or within acceptable limits. Heart rate, temperature, blood pressure were normal. The EKG (electrocardio-gram) showed a normal sinus rhythm; but the EEG (electroencephalogram) was different. The EEG showed higher level brain wave activity now, whereas before Charles' "soul" inhabited the body EEG activity was minimal to slightly below normal. The one thing the man had never done was speak. There were only guttural sounds that emanated from him. His vocal cords were normal. It was just that without higher brain functions, it was nearly impossible to teach him even rudimentary speech.

Dr. MacTaggart swore her assistants to secrecy. Xavier wanted it that way. He did not want the world to know yet that he was alive. That knowledge would, he knew, travel quickly and Magneto would be alerted of his whereabouts. Eric would find out soon enough, he reasoned, therefore advance warning was something they did not need to give him. Moira knew, though, that Charles could simply block that part of the assistants' memories, but she also knew that was against his principles. Many times, she reminded herself, he had said that we must allow people, whether normal or mutants, had to make decisions for themselves. Controlling their minds muted their right to freedom and he wanted to treat everyone equally.

Once the last IV was taken out, Xavier tried to sit up. Moira made a grab to help him.

"Easy . . . easy," she warned too late. Xavier's head swam with dizziness. He eased back down to the pillow. "You're na' ready ta sit up," she said, her Scottish brogue coming out. "Ya 'ave to take it slow."

The Professor laid still for a moment, blinked his eyes and looked in MacTaggart's direction. Clearing his throat, he tried speaking. It was difficult but he took his time.

"I. . .realize. . .that now," he said, noticing that although the vocal cords were slightly different, still his familiar voice came out of the mouth. He was happy with that; no one would mistake who it was, except that he now possessed a younger body. The patient was about thirty, thirty-five years old. This would prove an invaluable tool, as a "younger" Charles Xavier had the wisdom of the elder.

"Here," Moira offered her hands to him, "Let's try it with a little more help," and she nodded to the assistants. Gently they got him in a sitting position with his feet dangling off the bed. He leaned slightly forward and held himself up by resting his weight on his knuckles on the mattress. Sitting upright, Charles took a deep breath and smiled at MacTaggart. She returned the gesture.

"I have a surprise for you," she said.

Charles gave her an inquisitive look. "Which is?"

"First, the bad news. I couldn't get hold of anybody at the school. I got the answering machine in your office. I left a message for whoever was in charge to call me back on my cell and left them the number."

"Good," he replied. "What else?"

"We'll probably be there right after they get the message," she continued. "While I was on the phone, I called in a favor from an old friend. You don't know him, Charles. I met him at the celebration of my second Pulitzer Prize. He had congratulated me and then offered that if I ever needed anything, and he put emphasis on _anything_, that I should not hesitate to call. So I did. He's loaning us his private jet to get you to New York."

"But. . .Moira," Charles started, wanting to talk faster but unable to. "That. . . is a . . . sixteen hour trip."

The Doctor smiled. "Not in this, Xavier. My friend is very wealthy. He owns a huge world-wide corporation. This is his private business jet. It has the design of a corporation jet with the speed of an SST, like the ones the London firm just put in mothballs. We can be in New York in under eight hours."

"It . . .would have been. . . just as . . easy. . .to get the. . .Blackbird here."

"Probably, but his jet is at Heathrow in London, not even a couple of hours away. He's in Great Britain on business and doesn't mind loaning us the jet. As a matter of fact, it should soon be arriving here on the island. We have a private strip out back. Besides, when I told him it was one of Charles Xavier's mutants. . ."

The Professor looked at her. What all had she told this mystery man?

". . .he was more than willing to help. He said, 'Anything for that man. He's a good humanitarian. I'm impressed by the work he'd been doing among humans and mutants.' How can you refuse that? He admires you."

"But you didn't tell him it was me?"

"Of course not."

He thought it over. "I'll call the school from the plane. We'll need transportation from the airport."

Moira shook her head. "Already arranged."

"Your friend again?"

"Aye. He's callin' ahead ta 'ave his chauffeur meet us at La Guardia Airport. He's sendin' a stretch limo. Says nothin's too good for one o' the X-Men."

Charles smiled at that. "I'll hopefully one day be able to thank him in person."

"Aye. That ye might. C'mon, time to get ye ready fer the trip."

* * *

The girl collapsed on the side of the road, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. It wasn't easy to do; she had been crying and sobbing for what seemed like hours. She sat down on the cool grass and looked behind her. The mansion was no longer in view and she realized that she must have run over a mile.

_What am I going to do?_ she thought. _I killed my boyfriend. I. . . I. . ._ The tears started flowing again. However, the sobbing had stopped. There was no longer a fear in her for what happened. Now, a disgust was rising in her. _If I hadn't taken that 'cure'. . .Bobby would be alive right now. It's all my fault. He loved me, but I was selfish. I wanted more. I wanted to be able to touch him without killing him. Now look what I've done. All because of some stupid medication that didn't work._

_Well,_ Rogue continued the thought as she rose to her feet, _somebody's gonna pay for this. This isn't all my fault. Storm was right. There is no cure. I'm stuck like this. _She contemplated life without Bobby. _And now without the one I loved. _

She began walking again in a direction away from the mansion. The anger in her was getting stronger, totally taking over now. _I know who's responsible. That idiot Warren Worthington the second. Well, there may have been three of them, but when I'm through there'll only be two._

The mansion was an hour away from the city, making it a distance mileage-wise of sixty miles, give or take. Marie knew she couldn't walk that far in a few hours, so she had stuck out her thumb. It wasn't long before the first car stopped. Unfortunately, it was a carload of rowdy boys. She rolled her eys, put her thumb down and continued walking. _Not them,_ she thought.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, need a ride?" the driver asked, slowing down to keep pace with her.

"No, thanks," came the reply.

"What's the matter hot stuff? Not good enough for ya?" he answered back, pulling the car slightly off the road to block her way. Rogue stopped and looked up, rolling her eyes again, hands on her hips.

"I said, 'No, thanks.'" Now get out of my way."

The driver reached for her while the others in the vehicle "oooh-ed" and "whoa-ed."

"C'mere, ya little vixen."

Rogue grabbed the back of his hand. He instantly felt life draining from him. Her eyes narrowed as he looked her in the face. "I said no, thanks. Now leave," she said, letting go of his hand. She could tell he was only a human. No mutant traits were absorbed by her. Holding on any longer would have killed him. He jerked his hand back into the car, rubbing it with the other.

"Okay, okay." He turned the steering wheel to re-access the road. "Let's get out of here, guys." The others bemoaned the fact that the cute chick wasn't going to join them. Driver told them to shut up and he sped away.

Rogue continued walking. The second vehicle a little while later passed her, but the third vehicle slowed and asked if she needed assistance. The driver was a kindly older gentlemen with a wife not much younger than himself. She gladly accepted their offer of a ride to the bus station and entered the back seat of the sedan.

The bus station was not crowded this evening. She noticed, though, that no one followed her from the school. _I've run away before,_ she said to herself, _I guess they're used to it. _She went up to the ticket window and requested a one-way ticket to San Francisco. Fortunately, she had just enough money with her, with a little left over for some food about halfway through the trip. The _bad_ news was that it was a five day trip with several stops along the way. Non-stop would have cost more than she had, so she settled for the best she could get. The bus wouldn't leave for an hour, so she took a seat in the terminal.

Someone had a radio playing. It was an oldies station. She liked that kind of music. Some of the new stuff didn't appeal to her. But the song that was playing now made her shiver. It was an old Hall and Oates song, and it brought her memories of Bobby.

_When they insist on knowing my bliss_

_I tell them this_

_When they want to know what the reason is_

_I only smile when I lie, then I tell them why_

_Because your kiss your kiss is on my list_

_Because your kiss your kiss is on my list_

_Because your kiss is on my list of the best things in life_

_Because your kiss your kiss is on my list_

_Because your kiss your kiss I can't resist_

_Because your kiss is what I miss when I turn out the light._

(copyright © 1981 Hall and Oates, Lyrics and Music by Janna Allen and Daryl Hall)

Rogue hung her head and started crying.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away from the terminal in New York, Mystique was forming her own plan to get to San Francisco. She had gone to the dead guard's house and accessed her personal records on the computer. Then she accessed the web for archived news stories, particularly several months in the past. Headlines from several different newspapers and internet sources had run the story of the great San Francisco "Magnetoquake." Rifling through the next few weeks and months news reports began irking her. There was no news where Magneto was brought to trial. Had they let him go free? Or had he just slipped away as he always managed to?

She had contemplated this matter for a while and concluded that no one was going to put the former most feared power in prison. He must have slipped away and was leading a quiet life somewhere unnoticed. But where?

Where were some of his favorite spots on this world? Mystique thought of his name, Eric Lensherr. Germany? No, too many bad memories from another time. France, perhaps. No, he liked the cuisine but not necessarily the country. Would he leave the United States? Possibly, but, she concluded, there were some very good "hiding" places he liked in this country. In her mind's eye she scanned the country and the alphabet, placing names in alphabetical order that he had talked of when they were alone and he just wanted some company. She never got out of the A's when it came to her.

Arthur's Seat.

Eric had talked before of possibly one day settling there to "retire." How could anyone with that type of power, she had thought, retire? How do you give up the idea of world domi-nance?

And then she remembered his description of the place. She had admired him as he talked about it, and remembered the look of peace that came across his face as he told her how wonderful the view was. She thought of how he said if one stood on Arthur's Seat that person had a most excellent view of San Francisco, "all the way across the bay." He had a house there, he had said, built long ago, in excellent condition. He saw to it that it was well taken care of, and no one knew that the Master of Magnetism owned the property. As a matter of fact, she recalled, all the property owned by Magneto was in secret.

But this was the place to start looking for him.

_Now,_ she thought, _how to get there?_ She decided to travel incognito as a human no less. She didn't drive so that was out of the question. There were too many security scans at the airport, too. That left one of two alternatives: either carjack someone to take her there or take a bus.

Mystique laughed out loud. Now that would be something. A mutant taking a bus. From everything she could see in news articles, the majority of mutants had gone "underground." Very few were seen in public these days. After the San Francisco incident, they were all keeping a low profile.

_A bus it is,_ she decided, and accessed the nearest bus station on the web to buy a ticket. After all, she had a prison guard's credit card. Why not? The procedure didn't take long because she bought a one-way ticket. However, it would be a four day trip. She shrugged and said aloud, "That's okay. I can plan several ways between here and there to kill Eric, or Lord Magnus, or Magneto, or whatever name he's going by. Hell, I just might let him suffer and kill him a little bit for each name." Leaving the house, she laughed even harder as she headed for the bus station.

* * *

Wolverine was calling Bobby's name as he hit the top of the second floor landing. He flung open every door he came to with Storm on his heels.

"Logan, what about Bobby? What's wrong?" she demanded.

His eyes searched every room as he sniffed the air for Bobby's scent. "Marie said she killed him," he replied, flinging open another door and startling its occupant.

"What?" Ororo said in disbelief. "How?"

Another door flung open. _Damn, I didn't realize just how big this place really is._ "Didn't you forget to say 'when' and 'where'?" he asked sarcastically, scanning yet another room.

"No," she said dryly. "I figured if we knew that we wouldn't be searching every room."

He ignored her remark and continued the search. Storm stopped him from opening another door by grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. "You don't ever stop and think, do you, Logan?"

"I do my best thinking on the run."

"Not this time, mister. Stop for a moment. Where would they have possibly been up here? In either his room or hers, right? So why are we searching every room?"

Logan scanned the hallway, half turning around so as not to look at Storm. He really didn't have an answer so he made one up. "I don't know. Maybe she hid the body."

"I was in my office and I heard running, loud crying and loud talking. That doesn't strike me as someone taking time to hide something. That's sounds more like someone confused and scared."

Logan was forced to agree. "Yeah, you're right," he conceded. He headed upstairs to the third floor. "Let's check out her room."

He was still on Marie's bed when Storm and Logan found him. Logan stopped in the doorway and Ororo shoved past him, grabbing Bobby's wrist and checking for a pulse. At the same time, she took her left hand and opened an eyelid. "He's passed out," she said. "Pupils are okay, but his pulse is weak. By the paleness of his skin, I'd say Marie had him in an embrace and her powers returned to her."

Logan shot her a quizzical look. "What did you say?"

"Help me get him down to the infirmary, Logan," seemingly ignoring his question. The Wolverine picked up the limp youngster and carried him to the elevator. Storm replied to Logan's question as they entered the elevator. "I said, 'her powers returned,'" as the doors closed.

* * *

"Wait here," he told the cabbie. "I'll be right back with your cash."

"Okay, Mac," the cabbie replied. "Meter's still runnin' though."

"No problem." Scott hurried into the mansion. "Storm!" he called out. No answer,

"Logan!" Still no answer. "Professor X?" He was getting a little frustrated. He raised his hands and immediately dropped them to his side. "Is there _anybody_ here?" he screamed. One of the younger new female students approached him.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked.

He turned to face her, his eyes still closed. His features softened, knowing he was talking to someone barley fifteen. "What's your name, kid?"

"Donna," came the answer.

"I'm Scott. Scott Summers. Donna, do you have any cash? Mine's in my room and the cabbie is waiting. I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Sure, I've got about forty dollars, Mr. Summers. I'll go pay him for you."

"Thanks, Donna, and it's 'Scott,' not 'Mr. Summers,'" he said, smiling.

_Boy, he sure is cute,_ she thought, _even with those torn clothes on._ "Okay, Scott," she smiled back, even though she knew he couldn't see that smile.

As she walked out the door to pay the cabbie, Scott took the elevator to the second floor and his room. When he entered the room, a voice cried, "Get out! Who are you?"

Startled, he said, "Scott Summers, and this is _my_ room. Who the hell are you?"

"The name's Roberto, pal, and this is _my_ room. Scott Summers is dead. There's a memorial stone in the garden out back. Now get out before I kick you out."

Scott was confused, but politely said, "Sorry, Roberto, for the intrusion but I am Scott. Where's Storm? Or Wolverine?"

"In the infirmary with Bobby Drake. Rogue tried to kill him. Pardon me for asking, but if you're Scott, then why aren't you dead? They looked for you at Alkali Lake. The only thing they found were your specialty sunglasses."

"I'm not sure. I woke up in the woods a fair piece from the lake. Must've been knocked unconscious. I'm not sure of a lot of the details yet." He turned to go. "I also need to find Jean Grey." He was out of earshot when Roberto said, "Good luck with that, too, pal. She's another one that's dead."

Bobby's vital signs were low, but he was alive. Ororo monitored his readouts closely. "It'll be several days before we know for sure if there's any permanent damage," she told Logan, "but all indications right now are that he'll be just fine."

Logan nodded in response. "So the cure didn't work on Marie, huh?"

Storm shook her head. "It's as I said before, Logan. There _is no cure_. You cure a sickness. This is _not_ a sickness. We are _not_ sick. Even the Professor said it many times, 'The key to human evolution is mutation.' We are different genetically, that's all."

"Storm, calm down," he interrupted. "You're working yourself into a typhoon."

And she realized he was right. Her emotions were tied into her storm-producing capabilities and any time she got hot on a subject she deeply cared about, storm clouds gathered. She took a breath and exhaled heavily, attempting to relax. She half-smiled at Logan. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said. "I was just looking out for Bobby. I didn't think he needed to get caught up in one of your outbursts and end up with pneumonia."

Storm stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing, He was right again. Any more temper flare and clouds would've formed right over their heads and deluged the whole infirmary with rain, not to mention the lightning. That thought made her laugh harder while Logan just stared at her. She gave Logan a slight hug and looked up at his face. "Can you imagine," she said, still laughing, "Bobby waking up and wondering why he's soaking wet? In the infirmary?" She cackled. "Or wonder why he feels toasty warm not knowing it was from the lightning bolts?" Wolverine liked to see people enjoying themselves lately. He smiled at Storm and said, "Yeah. That would be hilarious." He put his arm around her and patted her on the back. "You're doing good, kid." He paused as she gazed at him quizzically. "Taking Charles' place, I mean."

Storm withdrew from him, eyes downward. "Nobody can take his place, Logan. I'm just doing the best I can."

"Yeah, well. . ." He was cut off by the infirmary door opening and Scott walking in.

"Hey, is this a private party, or can anyone join?" He asked.

Storm and Logan looked stunned, but it was Storm making the first move, running to hug the one they thought was dead.

"Scott!" she exclaimed, her arms going around him in a big hug.

* * *

**Working on Chapter seven, possibly Wednesday. Hang on and don't leave. It's gettin' good!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A note from dad: Thanks for these awesome reviews, including some constructive criticism. I never thought this would have the popularity it does. I do need to clarify a couple of things, though: 1) Rogue is not out of charatcer at this time. Someone extremely distraught over a situation may react like this. I don't own Batman or DC Comics, either, but the Joker said one time, "All it takes is one bad day to drive the sanest man alive to lunacy." We're all one step away from there. 2) Logan didn't give a hug to Storm. He put his arm around her shoulder. There's a difference. It's like a pat on the back.**

**Stick with me. Here's chapter seven. It's the longest so far. I hope to update this weekend. ENJOY!**

"Hey, Storm." Scott returned the hug. She pulled away and said, "Let me look at you," then scanned over him with her eyes. "You look like you've been through a war."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "it feels worse than it looks."

She laughed at that. Storm took him by the hand and led him to an examination table. "Come on, Scott, with me. You know the procedure for an injured X-Man."

He followed her, shuffling his feet and kicking the air. "Awe, Ma," he said teasingly.

Ororo smiled again. "Now behave young man or no ice cream after dinner."

Scott whined. "But I don't like the doctor," he said, hopping up on the table. "She's mean. She always pinches my cheek."

Logan stood with arms crossed leaning against an opposite table. "Daddy's got a belt, son, if you don't be good."

The happiness left Scott's face. There was no love lost between these two. "Oh. Hi, Logan," he deadpanned, shifting around on the table.

Storm tried to continue her examination. She slapped his leg, getting a loud "OW!" for her trouble. "Sit still," she commanded. "I'm almost through." A few more scans with the medical scanner and she pronounced, "Well, you seem to be somewhat in one piece. Except for the scratches and bruises, you seem to be okay."

"Well, that's good news, because I feel like hell."

"That'll pass," Logan chimed in, "and then you'll be the obnoxious leader again."

Storm cut him a glare then returned her attention to Cyclops. "He's right, but not about the obnoxious part," she reassured him.

"Speak for yourself," Logan snorted.

Scott shook his head. "Same old Logan," he said in the same deadpan voice he used to greet Wolverine.

Logan shrugged his shoulders now. "Why change? I'm so lovable now."

Scott grinned while still shaking his head.

Ororo stopped the game before it got started. "Okay!" she exclaimed. "You're fit for duty if you think you can handle it."

"I can," he answered, hopping off the table.

Storm couldn't resist turning to him and pinching his cheek. "And you were so good. You get two scoops of ice cream after dinner," she said with a smile.

Scott clapped his hands together a couple of times in front of himself and said, "Yay, me!"

Logan groaned at the gesture, rolling his eyes up and his head to the right, saying, "Oh, god."

Scott ignored him. "Hey, where'd you guys put my stuff? My room's been taken over by some Roberto dude. I'm kinda in need of my visor, plus I need my cash stash. I owe a young lady upstairs some money."

Storm walked over to a row of cabinets. "We'll take care of your 'loan officer' later. I remember the Professor kept a spare set or two of visors down here, Scott," she said, opening one or two cabinets at a time. She searched drawers at the same time, finding two visors in the third drawer she looked in. "Ah, yes, here we are." She handed one to Scott. He clipped it in place.

He let out a relaxing breath. "Boy, that's better. I haven't had my eyes open for days."

"Speaking of which," Storm started to ask, "how did you find your way back?"

"It wasn't easy," he replied. "I was fortunate on knowing the area and compass directions. The Professor taught us well for when we get separated and initially lose our bearings. By the way, where is he? I need to talk to him. Also, I'm looking for Jean. She's alive somehow. Isn't that great? Is she here?"

Logan and Storm both turned heads to each other when he mentioned the names. Logan averted his eyes from Cyclops' stare. Storm, as tender as she could, said, "Scott," touching his arm and sounding very sympathetic.

"What's wrong?"

Storm took him by the hand again. "Perhaps you should come with me," she declared, walking out of the infirmary. Logan reluctantly followed them.

They took him to the garden. He gazed solemnly at each one. _Jean and the Professor both dead?_ he thought.

Pointing and nodding at his stone, he said, "I think you can take this one down."

"Definitely," Storm said quietly.

"How did it happen, Storm? Who or what caused their deaths?"

_Here comes the bad news,_ Wolverine said to himself. Knowing discretion is the better part of valor, he kept silent and let Storm do the talking. That wasn't much help to Storm, because she wasn't sure where to begin. Scott was going to blow a fuse when he found out all the details, especially about Jean and her death.

In a soft voice, her eyes lowered, Storm said, "Jean killed the Professor."

They were standing in front of Jean's monument, Scott just to Ororo's left, Wolverine to her right. Disbelief crossed Scott's face. Surely he had heard her wrong. Jean would never kill a friend; an enemy, maybe; someone threatening her life, yes, definitely. But the Professor? Never. Storm had to be wrong. It was a mistake. It must have been someone posing as Jean.

But something about the way Storm said it and the way she hung her head showed that she knew it was true, even though she didn't want to.

"Tell me you're kidding," he replied. She didn't respond. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Storm. Tell me you're pulling my leg." He glanced at Logan.

"She's telling you the truth, kid. Jean . . . killed the Professor." The blank stare on Scott's face said it all. He only asked a one word question.

"How?"

Storm was gathering words in her mind, collecting her thoughts and assembling them to be able to tell Scott about Jean and how she killed Xavier. It wasn't going to be easy, she knew, but she started the attempt.

With a deep breath, she looked Scott in the eyes and said, "Jean had a split personality, Scott. It was that split personality that killed Charles Xavier."

Scott just stared at her. His mind was trying to comprehend all this. The woman he loved had a split personality? A personality capable of killing friends? Anyone?

"No," he said softly, vaguely shaking his head, not wanting to believe it.

She became stern with him, at least in the way in what she said next. The tenderness in her touch on his arm told him she still sympathized with him and understood his incapacity for accepting all this. "Yes, Scott, it's true. The Professor knew of it. He had kept it subdued subconsciously for years. He knew what she was capable of and tried to keep the other entity dormant inside her. She wasn't ready for the full power she was capable of. It was like a child of five with a loaded shotgun. She didn't know how to handle it."

"Then how did this 'other entity' come out?"

"Something happened at Alkali Lake. Instinct for survival on Phoenix's part must have come out and didn't let her die."

"Phoenix?" he questioned.

Ororo had moved away from Scott, casually walking back and forth. She turned to face him again. "That's the name the other personality gave itself."

Scott looked as though he had a question that he didn't know how to ask. He raised his eyes toward heaven as if the question would form better looking up there. "Why didn't the Professor just help her control it? Why bury it in the subconscious? Jean was bright enough to handle it?" The last statement was more of a question because he was sure of the fact, even if no one else was.

"No, Scott," Storm continued. "She wasn't. The Professor knew from almost when they first met that she had a gift, a power, far greater than any mutant he had ever met. She was a class five mutant, Scott. A class five in the mind of someone of a class two or three stage."

"So now you're telling me that she was becoming more powerful? Is it possible for mutants to do that?"

She half-grinned at his suggestion. "It's very possible, especially among those with telepathic and telekinetic powers. There seems to be no limit to the mind's power."

"But the Professor couldn't stop her?"

Ororo shook her head. "No," she answered.

"How did it happen?" he asked. How did she . . ." His words trailed off.

"The Professor felt she would go back to familiar territory. He felt she would go home, and he was right. That's where we found her. At her parents' home. Along with Magneto."

"Magneto?" Scott interrupted. "What the hell was he doing there?"

She breathed a sigh. "The same thing we were," she said. "Looking for Jean."

"So she never came here?"

"Yeah, she did." This time Logan did the talking. "We found her at Alkali Lake unconscious. It was uncanny, Scott. It seemed like everything out there was floating in the air, even the water in the lake. I found your glasses out there, floating in the air with no owner around." He paused to let that sink in before continuing. "We brought her back here to the infirmary. The Professor stayed with her almost the entire time. That's when we were told of her personality split."

Storm picked up from there. "She threw Wolverine telekinetically into one of the stainless steel walls so hard that she knocked him unconscious." Scott looked at Logan and knew how difficult that would have been for anyone else, but he knew the power of her telekinetic ability. He had been thrown around by her when she was under Stryker's control before her first death. "Then she ripped the infirmary doors off their hinges and left.

"As I said before, we traveled to her parents' house where we found Magneto and some of his people there looking for her also. The Professor and Magneto went in alone while the rest of us waited outside.

"We heard a commotion inside and Wolverine wanted to go in, with or without me. We got in, but were so occupied with fighting Magneto's goons that we weren't able to get to the Professor."

"She took him apart, Cyclops." Logan was speaking again. "I saw the last part of it. She had thrown Magneto into the kitchen. He was helpless to stop her and he had that helmet on. Her incredible power went right through. On top of that, she manipulated every molecule and atom around her. But it wasn't Jean. It was this 'Phoenix.'" He stopped and looked down at the ground, gathering together the next thought. He raised his eyes and looked at the man. "She disintegrated him into his base molecules, Scott. I saw it and I couldn't believe it. I saw the look on Magneto's face and he was shocked by it. She had the house floating in the air and when she concluded with the Professor, the house dropped to the ground. We looked around and she was gone that quick. We didn't have our eyes off her for a second and she was gone."

Scott was silent, absorbing all the information he had just been given, trying to make sense of it all. His next question was the one they both feared.

"How did Jean die?" he asked solemnly.

Neither Ororo nor Logan spoke. Scott looked at Logan, then Storm. "Well, is anybody gonna say anything?"

Storm and Logan exchanged glances. "I think Logan needs to tell you this," she said resolutely.

Scott turned to face him. Logan glanced at Scott then back to Storm. "Thanks," he told her dryly, then looked back at Scott. Storm started to walk away. "I think I'll leave you two alone to talk," she said, turning to leave. She shot a backward glance. "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, okay?"

The air grew deathly quiet as the two men just stood and stared at each other. A person could have cut the tension Wolverine was feeling with a knife. How do you tell someone that you killed someone that they cared about? Scott broke the long silence with a word.

"Well?"

Logan moved to one of the benches in the garden. "Let's have a seat, shall we?" he asked, sitting down, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knee.

Cyclops eyed him suspiciously. He folded his arms across his chest and asked, "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because," Logan stated, "I don't think you can knock me on my ass if I'm already sitting down."

He asked the same question, which frustrated Logan. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're not gonna like the answer about Jean."

There was a pause, and Scott reluctantly came and sat down next to Logan. He didn't look at the man, just stared at the ground in front of himself with his arms resting on his legs, his hands clasped together, ready for the worst.

"How did it happen, Logan? What killed her?"

There was no answer. Neither changed their seated positions. Scott rephrased the question.

"_Who_ killed her?"

Logan took a moment to swallow hard, knowing what might happen next.

"I did."

* * *

Jack Stover was not a happy man. Many of his friends had died in that attack on Alcatraz when Magneto decided to show humans what they thought of the "cure." He still remembered Magneto's words to the Juggernaut, "In chess the pawns always go first." He thought of after that ill-fated attack and the disruption of their bodies into base molecules by the Phoenix. Luckily, Callisto, Pyro, and himself escaped before the total destruction started. As they ran for their very lives, they saw the X-Men's Blackbird leaving the area. None of them knew what had become of Magneto. The last time Jack saw Magneto, the one called Beast, Dr. Henry McCoy, had plunged four of the immunization darts into his chest. In an instant he was no longer the Master of Magnetism. He was only Eric Magnus Lensherr, a human.

Every time he thought back on that day it angered him. So many had lost their lives for nothing. Mutant rights seemed non-existent. They were looked upon still as a disease by many, and that made matters difficult in job searching. Even mutants needed to eat. They needed a place to call home. And many of them, though few would admit it, desired not only acceptance, but love, too.

Angel had found that love that seemed to be lost in his father. Jack recalled how the boy had swooped down from seemingly out of nowhere, like he came straight out of heaven itself, to rescue his father from a terrible death on the rocky precipice that surrounded Alcatraz Island. Why can't everyone be accepted for who they are, no matter if they appear different on the outside? Jack remembered what his mother used to tell him, "It's not the outside, boy, that counts. It's what's inside a person that matters."

She had died not long after her son had begun his mutations. His tattoos moved and changed, thus he got the name "Illustrated Man." He became alone in the world after that. His father wasn't like his mother. Father saw an animal before him, not the son his wife had given birth to. He was put out on the streets to fend for himself.

He survived okay, met a woman who was gutsy, brave, and fast, and took crap from no one. Callisto ran the Marauders, at least when it came to decision-making. Jack didn't mind taking a back seat to her, or with her for that matter. He enjoyed the lime-light when she wasn't around but preferred to make decisions for the group with his wife in private.

Today was a big day. They were meeting with all the mutants in San Francisco in a large old Army Quonset hut with some federal government officials to talk of mutant rights. Word had it that Dr. Hank McCoy, the U. N. Ambassador of Mutant Affairs was going to be there. Jack looked forward to the meeting. It was to be a major conference, with satellite links around the world. One of the questions on Jack's mind is what happened to the so-called "cure?" Why were mutant powers returning? So many were upset that they would never have "normal" lives. He knew many that had taken their lives because they were so distraught over this development that they could not live with it. Some of those that did had been his friends. That's why he wasn't a happy man. He wanted answers.

The Quonset hut was nearly packed with mutants. The hut had been used as a storage facility for all sorts of things over the years, the last of which required cool to cold temperatures so a huge air conditioning system had been installed at great expense by the previous owners. Steel beams reinforced the old metal skeleton and sheet metal siding and roof. The thick insulation that covered the walls and ceiling helped keep the old place very cool in the hot months. The new owners used it as a meeting hall for various groups now. Today the New Brotherhood of Mutants Worldwide was meeting with the government in the old place. It would soon prove to be an historic day.

Outside a crowd was gathering. Some held picket signs protesting the conference for mutant rights. Another group held signs in favor of it. All in all, it was a typical conference. Some would always oppose and some agree. The San Francisco P. D. were handling the crowd at this time, but the governor wanted to play it safe, so he sent extra reinforcements in the form of the National Guard.

Several motorcades brought dignitaries from all over the globe. Security was very tight because of the various high-ranking government officials attending the meeting. The last motorcade was the one carrying Dr. Henry McCoy. Jack waited by the front door to greet him. Hank smiled as he shook the man's hand. Jack felt like they were old friends the way McCoy treated him, though they had never really officially met. They walked together to the podium, Jack chuckling at some little pun Hank was making. Each took a seat on the dais, Hank McCoy seated to the left of the center microphone and Jack two chairs to the right. The president of the New Brotherhood was Callisto. She held the first chair to the right of the microphone. Once everyone was seated at the dais, Callisto got up to speak. Some mutants were still coming in as the conference started.

"Welcome, everyone," she started, "to the first annual conference on mutant affairs and civil rights." Loud whistles, shouts and applause echoed throughout the auditorium. She waited for the din to die down, but the people kept it going. There were some dissidents in the crowd and they shouted obscenities at the ones on the dais. The majority, though, appeared to want the conference. Security attempted to keep the peace as much as possible.

Callisto smiled at the way the crowd was reacting. Not long ago she had been one of the dissidents who had joined Magneto to bring the world to order under the Brotherhood. Over the months since, Hank McCoy had convinced her to lead the Brotherhood in a new, more challeng-ing direction. She had consented and the MBMW was born. She served as the U. S. diplomat to the international conference. Her husband was special envoy. Over the last couple of months they had made great strides in formulating bills which would go before congresses, parliaments, and councils worldwide to help mutants of all ages and abilities. This was the first such annual conference and she was proud that it was being held in her home country.

She tapped the microphone causing that high-pitched sound that no one likes to hear called back feed. "May I have your attention, please?" she stated loudly. "I know everyone is excited about this first conference, but we must get started. We have several people to hear from, including our distinguished U. N. Ambassador, Dr. Henry McCoy."

No sooner did she get the words out of her mouth than the crowd went wild again. Cheers of "Atta boy, Henry," and "McCoy for President!" were heard from all over the room. Hank half stood and acknowledged their appreciation of him with a wave and a smile.

The day went well. Caliisto had introduced the four speakers before McCoy and the crowd listened intently to their every word. Rousing applause went up during their speeches and afterwards. Each was given standing ovations by mutants and humans. Callisto was standing at the podium getting ready to introduce Hank.

"Well," she said, smiling, "I suppose you know who's next."

The crowd erupted in extreme applause for him. The din they sent up was nearly deafening. Over it all, Callisto managed to shout through the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, DR. HENRY MCCOY!" The crowd drowned her out. McCoy rose and took his place behind the microphone, but not without a handshake and a hug for Callisto. They mouthed their pleasantries to one another, for no one could hear anything but the roar of the crowd. All eyes were focused on the dais.

No one saw the shadowy figure descending from a skylight in the back of the room.

Finally the crowd settled down. Humbly, McCoy said, "Thank you." He adjusted his notes and began to speak.

"We have all had encounters with those who do not necessarily care for mutants. We have been put down, held back, turned away, and in more than a few instances, threatened, beaten, and even killed."

Throughout the crowd were heard "Amens" and "That's right." McCoy continued.

"Today starts a new beginning for mutants the world over. Today we will be recognized by every government as a powerful voice, a voice that will not be silent. Today marks the day of a new allegiance. An allegiance where all mutants can speak, where all mutants can vote, and where all mutants can walk without fear of anyone."

The crowd erupted in another volley of loud cheering and applause. Once they settled down, he continued.

"This allegiance is not just for mutants. We have normal humans among us who support us in this. Many of them have been persecuted over the years, also. Many have not. The ones who have not are decent folk. They do not wish to see abuse in any form. It is this element of human compassion that I now salute."

Another interruption of loud applause, this time not for McCoy's words, but for his gesture as he stood at attention and saluted the audience. Throughout the audience, mutants shook the hands of plain humans around them. Some were even given embraces. It was turning into a totally good conference. Once the people settled into their chairs again, Hank picked up where he left off.

"Today," he started only to be interrupted by a voice from the back of the room, a voice all too familiar to him.

"Come now, Dr. McCoy," the voice said as its owner slowly walked the aisle to the front. Everyone recognized him immediately. Magneto. Or who used to be Magneto. McCoy eyed him suspiciously. "Do you _really_ expect us to believe these lies propagated by these governmental pawns?"

Several on the dais moved toward him. Hank waved them off. "Let him speak," he said. "This is for all mutants, including former ones." A round of laughter followed that remark. All thought it funny that Lensherr would attempt such a bold move with no powers. He had opposition, though. Pyro and Stover met him at the bottom of the steps to the dais. McCoy shook his head and they allowed him access. He calmly walked onto the dais with Pyro and Jack right behind him. Hank relinquished the microphone to him.

"Thank you, Ambassador," he said curtly. Hank did not sit. Instead, he stood just to Eric's left with his hands folded together in front of him. The look on his face showed that he conceded the floor but was offended at this blatant interruption by someone who had no business here. However, diplomacy had to win out. If McCoy had stopped him, it would have been a black eye on all they were trying to accomplish for mutants. The better part of valor this time was to let Eric speak his peace.

The audience had a different agenda however. They started booing and hissing at Magneto and tried their best to stifle him. He tolerated it for a moment or two, then raised his voice so all could hear with or without the use of the mic.

"Are you so blind that you cannot see this as another ploy to satiate us? To pat us on the head like obedient pets? To keep us subdued? This is no different that that so-called cure they tried to feed us!"

"Shut up old man!"

"Get him down off the podium!"

"Throw him out of here!"

Eric stared at the crowd with a grin. "Do you all really feel that way?"

The crowd erupted with more boos and whistles. Someone on the front row stepped forward and said, "You in particular don't belong here. You tried to get us all killed!" There were shouts of agreement among the crowd.

Pyro and Jack Stover approached him. Pyro spoke first. "It's over, old man. There's no one that wants you here. You're finished." Eric noticed a habit that even today Pyro still had.

"Still flicking that lighter, eh, boy?" he grinned. "You admired me once."

"And I'm not that stupid anymore. We've got it better now." He pushed Eric backwards a step or two. "So why don't you leave? You're nothing more than a useless, doddering old fool."

Eric's expression had gone from one of nonchalant ness to slight anger when Pyro pushed him. Regaining his composure, his features softened somewhat and he smiled wide.

"Useless, am I" he said approaching the microphone once again. "A doddering old fool?" Something in his voice made John and Jack back away from him. "Perhaps I should show you what a 'doddering old fool' is capable of."

He stepped back from the podium and raised his hands. His right hand was held outstretched above his head while his left hand was palm up at about eye level. The building started to tremble. The people gasped in surprise. Overhead two of the main support beams groaned. People looked up and saw the rounded ceiling buckling. Many screamed and started running for the doors. Others stood as if in shock.

Eric made a slow twisting motion with his right hand. The nuts on the bolts holding those two main support beams began turning. Soon the bolts were floating in mid-air. It wasn't long and the beams joined them. McCoy made a move toward Magneto.

Eric simply smiled and said, "I wouldn't try anything, Beast," using the term that he knew Hank objected to, "I might lose my concentration." He let the beams slip to just above the head of the tallest mutant there who just happened to be ducking down at the time. The area around him cleared in case the beams fell completely. Eric decide to drop them and they hit the floor with a loud crashing sound which brought another round of screams from the room. He lowered his right hand. His left hand apparently was holding the building together.

Outside the protestors, both pro and con, grew silent. They had heard the applause all day and the jovial attitude that wafted outside to them. But now the tone was different. Now there were screams and people running from the building. Several were screaming, "Magneto is back!" "Magneto is trying to kill everybody in there!" Not even the police or the national guardsman moved. All stayed where they were positioned. Inside, Magneto was sounding more angry.

"As you can see, my powers are back. And they're stronger. With a single thought I could wipe out every one of you, especially you good-for-nothing bureaucrats who don't give a _damn_ about anyone but yourselves. But I have a proposition. All who want to join me may come forward and stand before the dais."

Nobody moved.

Beast approached him. "Magneto," he said.

"I prefer Lord Magnus, sir," Eric shot back. "And I also prefer not to speak to you." With a gesture from his right hand, he upended one of the conference tables spilling its contents every-where and flung it Hank McCoy. It caught him off guard and he was sent flying backwards into the opposite wall. Callisto and Jack hurried to Hank's side to see if he was okay.

Eric's tone was deadpan. "He'll live. He's too much of a brute for that to damage him.' He turned back to the crowd. "No takers? Very well, then." He lowered his left hand and the ceiling began collapsing in on itself. The people panicked and nearly trampled each other to get to an exit. Magneto smiled incessantly. Suddenly the creaking and groaning of metal stopped. "I'm in a good mood today. I'll give you people one more chance. The government cares nothing about you. They want you subdued. They don't care if you live or die. I, on the other, will make certain that every mutant will have a place in society. I offer you what these assembled here only promise you. They are empty promises, brothers and sisters. Those bills will be tied up in committees until your great-great-great grandchildren run around on this planet."

Some stepped forward, but it was far fewer than Eric expected. Too many remembered what recently happened. They were not willing to sacrifice civil rights for civil war. And it would have been a civil war, not unlike the one in the eighteen hundreds. True, that one pitted north against south but it was still brother against brother. This would be, too. Most of these mutants assembled here had families. Some rejected them, others did not. The only thing about this civil war was that it would be happening in each country, not just the United States.

"If we want change then we have to make it happen, starting with the destruction of those who try to keep us down. It starts here, but it is each state and the federal government that is holding us back. It is the government of foreign countries that hold us back. I call for a world- wide takeover of these governments and the extermination of the present leaders who hold office."

Several more had joined those at the front. They appeared to be from all nationalities. Magneto smiled. "No others?" No one else moved.

"Suit yourselves," he declared. "Come, my small band of warriors. Let us depart."

His hand was still raised as he left through the back door followed closely by his entourage. Once outside, he dropped his hand. The building started falling in on itself. He could hear the screams inside as the door closed.

The people on the street in front gasped as they saw what was taking place. The entire building was collapsing. Many tried to run to help but they were too late to do any good.

Inside, Hank McCoy was just coming around when Magneto let go of the building. Quickly he grabbed Callisto and Pyro and made a mad run for the door. Jack Stover was hot on his heels, but he didn't make it. Beast crashed through the door carrying Callisto and the little hothead just as the building completely fell in. He heard Jack's screams as the building crushed him. Callisto screamed out for her husband but all she could do was watch in horror as he was crushed to death. Hank let go of her and she collapsed crying on the sidewalk, screaming her husband's name. Pyro hung his head in sorrow over their loss.

* * *

The news media pounced on the story. It hit every news service in the world. Every radio station, every television network, every newspaper carried the story and some of the most vivid pictures of any story anywhere. Governments were up in arms over the tragedy. Many top level government officials had been killed that day. Special sessions of parliaments and the like were taking place burning midnight oil to handle the situation and trying to formulate some sort of retaliation. Cool heads did not prevail this night, not even in the White House.

Boliver Trask had the President's ear.

"B, we've tried that," the President was saying. "That was William Stryker's idea and it went sour."

"Very true, Mr. President," Trask replied. "But look what just happened in California. We have a mutant element that's about to go world-wide to take over this planet. And Magneto has threatened to wipe out every government official and dignitary in the world. That includes you, Mr. President."

David Cockrum rubbed his hand over his head. "I know. I know. What do you propose?"

"A scaled down version of what we had. Nothing so huge that one build bankrupts us. We need protection. The public needs protection from renegade mutants like this. I'm your homeland security chief, boss, and I see these renegades as nothing but terrorists. That's all they are, plain and simple."

President Cockrum rose from his chair in the oval office and paced back and forth, hands behind his back, staring at the floor. When he stopped, he looked directly in Bolivar Trask's eyes.

"Have a proposal on my desk in the morning."


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay. Been real busy, but here's Chapter 8!**

"And in other news today, sources say a top aide to President David Cockrum was fired for allegedly leaking information about the revival of a long dead program aimed at, sources say, mutant crime control."

The bus intercom had been activated by the driver. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" she was saying. At our next scheduled stop we will be picking up extra passengers from bus number fourteen twenty. Number fourteen twenty broke down at the next depot on our route. It is the non-stop to San Francisco. We will be re-designated as a non-stop from that point on at no extra charge to you. Thank you."

_Great_, she thought. _More people._ Hopefully there would not be too many. The back of the different buses is where she had ridden the entire trip thus far and it had remained relatively empty. If anyone came near her she acted like she wanted to be alone and that seemed to be enough to give her four back rows to herself. Alone in her grief is where she wanted to be and so far had gotten her wish.

Rogue pondered the news they heard from a radio someone had on the bus. Magneto had regained his powers? So she was not the only one it happened to. The news report claimed that across the globe mutant powers were returning to their owners. She knew that, like her, many were distraught over the resurgence of their powers and deformities. Suicide among mutants had increased due to the fact. Some were in mental institutions because it made them crazy. Still others had caused riots wanting answers to questions that no one seemed to have answers for. Research continued to take place to figure out what had gone wrong.

Yet all the pondering and thinking in the world was not going to bring back Bobby.

_Bobby. _His name flashed through her mind again as it had this entire trip. No matter what she did to change the subject of thought, somehow Bobby always reoccurred in the line of thinking. It was as though she was being haunted by his death.

Death. Now such an ugly word. One of life's standard processes now was nothing more than cursing and swearing to her. Death had cost her the lives of too many close to her, especially recently. Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Professor Charles Xavier.

And Bobby. She leaned forward in the seat and rubbed her hands across her face. How did it all get so complicated? What was she to do without him? With her face hidden in her hands she could feel Bobby's touch even now. He was right there; kissing her and making her feel wonderful. She lingered in the moment, not wanting it to end. He pulled back from her and looked at her, smiling that beautiful smile he had. She felt so alive when he was near.

A car horn blaring next to the bus forced her to open her eyes. She looked around for a moment then remembered where she was. Reality set in once more. Bobby was not here.

Bobby was dead.

Marie hung her head and started crying again.

* * *

Rotten luck.

That is what Mystique was thinking. Of all times for public transportation to break down it had to be now. Sure, she only had about another hour to wait but she had grown impatient watching the mechanic perform futility on a dead engine. Smoke had been pouring out of the engine compartment earlier. The trouble, it seemed, was an electrical short. Everyone had been evacuated from the now defunct bus. The bus line and depot personnel made everyone as comfortable as they could to even offering free meals in the adjacent restaurant. Mystique chose to sit and read a fashion magazine while she waited. When no one was looking she would "try on" various outfits in the magazine to see if she liked one. To her, it was much easier this way than to shop in a store for what she wanted.

She had already changed her shape before boarding the first bus. The guard she had impersonated was a little stocky and not that good looking, so she settled for a more appealing look. Raven did notice that since her powers had returned that she could hold the shape she chose longer. The energy expenditure did not seem as strenuous now. That meant she could just about impersonate anybody and get away with it. She had all the possibilities running through her head when the ticket agent announced the relief bus's arrival.

She ducked into the ladies room and entered a stall immediately changing back into her natural blue skin. Breathing out a sigh she sat down to relax. Boarding took a few minutes, especially since the attendants had to load the luggage from the other passengers. This would enable her to hold her chosen image longer on the trip to California. Perhaps, she considered, it could be held all the way to San Francisco.

In a few minutes the ticket agent was giving the last call for boarding the non-stop bus to San Francisco. The door to the ladies room opened and a rather smart dressed young woman emerged. She had an air of confidence in her walk and a slight smile on her face. She smiled at the attendants who just stared back at her watching her from behind as she walked past them and boarded the bus. She turned and winked at them bringing grins and smiles to their faces.

_Fools_, she thought as she looked for a seat on the bus. Raven noticed a girl a little younger than herself sitting alone in the back and realized that she knew her. It was Rogue, one of Xavier's kids, she mused. Slowly she walked to the back of the bus and sat down in the seat opposite Rogue. Marie eyed her as she sat down; the woman turned and flashed a grin at her.

"Hi," the woman said, turning back to her carryon bag and pretending to look for something in it.

Marie said, "Hi," flatly and turned her head to the front. Obviously this one wasn't going to move. It appeared that she was going to have company on the last leg of the trip anyway.

* * *

Wolverine had not moved. Neither had Cyclops. They sat on the garden bench in stark silence. It appeared as though Scott was letting what the man seated next to him had just said. He rose to his feet and walked about four paces away from the bench. He never turned around, but instead placed his hands on his hips and, looking skyward, said blandly, "You killed her."

Logan shifted his weight on the bench, his head still down glancing at the ground. His reply was short.

"Yeah."

He waited for what might come next. He really expected Scott to turn and pounce on him. He was concentrating to keep his own emotional state in check. One thing he didn't need at the moment was a fight with Scott Summers. He knew he would have to move quick if Scott turned and activated that optic blast of his. Otherwise, his goose would be cooked. Literally. He noticed a slight turn of Cyclops' foot. _Here it comes_, he thought, but it wasn't what he expected.

Scott had turned completely around now and faced him. His stance looked like someone tired, confused and dejected. His tone and sentence indicated much the same.

"So you just killed her for killing the Professor, huh, Logan? Killing is so easy for you, isn't it? No regard for who or what, right? Just put it out of your misery?" His voice had risen slightly in tone. When he finished berating Logan, he shook his head and turned his back to him.

Logan sat up straight now and raised his head towards Scott's direction.

"It wasn't like that, Cyclops," he returned.

Scott turned his head slightly to the right peering over his own shoulder, unable to believe what Wolverine just said. He turned fully around and looked down at the man.

"Oh, really?" he questioned, walking toward the bench and standing directly in front of him. Logan stood to face him. "Then why don't you tell me how it was?" Scott continued, almost nose to nose with him.

Logan stared at him for a moment and eased away from him retreating behind the bench. It was a power move to gain distance between them. He felt that if Scott tried anything he was better suited to duck and cover than to fight the man face to face. He did not normally back down from a fight but this was a time, as the Professor would have said, for reasoning. Over the past few months he had tried to incorporate some of those ideals into his own person.

"I didn't kill her because she killed the Professor," he said. "It wasn't even at her house that it happened."

"Where was it?" Scott demanded.

Wolverine turned around. "Alcatraz. We had been fighting Magneto and his army."

He told of how they defeated Magneto and the Brotherhood and how Jean had turned into the Phoenix at that point. He told of how the world as they knew it was being torn apart atom by atom by her, of how he knew he was the only one that could stop her. Scott stood still and only listened up to that point then he interrupted.

"And that's when you killed her. Just pulled out those claws and rammed them through her." His tone was heated and deadpan at the same time.

"No," Logan continued. "That's not when I 'just killed her.'"

Scott raised his voice, leaned slightly forward and with hands partially outstretched, said, "Then _what_, Logan? What? What else is there?" Neither one said anything. They just stared at each other. Scott, turning to walk away, said, "You're pathetic."

Logan watched him walk away. He knew Scott did not have the whole story yet. But the man was being very stubborn, a trait Logan knew all too well. With one remark, he stopped Cyclops from going.

"I loved her."

Scott Summers stopped. He did not turn around. He did not say anything. He only stood where he had stopped. Wolverine had lowered his eyes, a movement that Scott did not see.

"I loved her," he said softly.

"You loved her?" Scott said, turning around slowly, a look of disgust on his face. "You loved her!" he smirked. Anger now. "How the hell do you kill somebody you love? Huh, Logan? How do you do that?"

Logan met his gaze. All the emotions he had bottled up for years, no, more like, decades, so badly wanted to surface. Deep down inside of him was a human being crying, screaming to get out. But it was masked and muffled by a creature much more powerful that any human. It was subdued by the other personality inside of him, the only one that ever seemed to come out. The Wolverine.

"I never said it was easy, Cyclops. Still, I was the only one that could stop her. I thought she would listen to me. She tried ripping me apart, too, but as you know, my healing power won't let me die. I was able to get right next to her. Yeah, my claws were extended. We hand just done battle and I hadn't drawn them back in. The closer I got to her, though, the more I realized that there may only be one way to stop her.

"I was right there, Scott," his said, eyes down. "I was looking straight into those beautiful eyes of hers. And then she said, 'You would do this? For them?'" He raised his eyes before he spoke again and Scott would have sworn that he saw a tear in Wolverine's eye. Logan shook his head. "'No, I told her. 'Not for them. For you.'" His eyes lowered again. He whispered, "For you."

Summers could only look at Logan. He had probably seen more emotion than anyone ever had from this man they called Wolverine. He couldn't fathom the man, couldn't understand the depths Logan was coming from. When he had left to go to Alkali Lake, he had told him, "Not everyone heals as fast as you, Logan." Now he now was seeing the emotional scars that Logan was carrying around, scars that had no immediate healing, scars that would last a very long time.

Logan spoke again raising his head and standing a little straighter. "That's when she said . . . Jean, _not_ the Phoenix, she said, 'Save me, Logan.' And I . . ." His voice caught in his throat. "And I . . . I said . . . 'I will.' That's when . . . when . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it. Not out loud. The pain was still too great. To himself he said, _I killed her._ He lowered his head, realizing the emotion he was feeling was called guilt, even though there was nothing more he could have done in order to save Jean alive.

Nothing else needed to be said. Scott just looked at him. He came to know some of the inner workings of the man before him and knew how difficult it must be for him. He had shown a side that no one sees. _And,_ Scott thought to himself, _it's a side that will remain between us. _He placed his right hand on Logan's shoulder. Logan raised his head to look at Scott. Scott simply smiled at him. Summers empathized with him. He missed Jean, too, and knew some of how Logan felt. Part of him wanted to tear the man apart but the other part of him knew what he was going through. They were kindred spirits in that respect, each of them hurting over the loss of someone each of them loved dearly. Scott's next move surprised even Logan.

"Come on," he said somewhat sympathetically. "Let me buy you a beer," and gently moved Wolverine in the direction of the mansion. A very familiar voice stopped both of them in their tracks.

_"Well, I'm glad to see you two finally getting along."_

They each said the word at the same time.

"Professor?"

They both hurried to the man in the wheelchair. Neither of them recognized the woman behind him. Frankly, they were a little stunned to hear the Professor's voice as the one in the chair did not resemble the man at all. But there was no mistaking that voice. The man was speaking even as they approached yet his lips were not moving.

_It's good to see you, Scott, Logan. _He was communicating telepathically with them.

"Professor," Scott started to say, "how. . .?'

Xavier cut him off. _I would ask the same of you, Scott, but Storm filled me in when we got here. _He spoke openly. "Forgive my rudeness. Boys, this is Doctor Moira MacTaggart. Moira, this is Scott Summers," he said, pointing to him, "and this is Logan." The three exchanged handshakes and pleasantries. Ororo Munroe stepped out of the doorway.

"I thought this would be a nice surprise for you two," she said.

Logan voiced their opinions. "Definitely," he said, but inquisitively added, "How long have you three been listening to us?"

Xavier raised a hand. "Relax, Logan. We just stepped out. All we know is that you two were discussing Jean's death. I am aware of the entire incident with Magneto and the Brotherhood. I am also aware that Eric's powers have returned to him."

Wolverine nodded. "Yeah, so has Rogue's. She thought she killed Bobby."

"Where is she?" Charles asked.

Logan shrugged as did Storm. "Beats me," Logan said. "She ran outta here like a bat out of hell. No one knows where she went."

"Well," Charles said, "if she has her powers back, I can locate her with Cerebro as well. We have a situation brewing."

Scott spoke up. "What kind of situation?"

"There has been an incident in District X in San Francisco. A meeting there between mutants and government officials from all over the world went terribly wrong when Magneto, excuse me, Lord Magnus as he says he is now called, disrupted the meeting and killed almost everyone there. Very few escaped with their lives. One of the delegates was the new U. N. Ambassador of Mutant Affairs, Hank McCoy."

"Is he alright?" Logan asked.

"Yes," the Professor said. "He was able to pull out Pyro and Callisto with him. Unfortunately they watched the building finish collapsing on top of her husband, Jack Stover. Washington has started a full scale security operation to put a stop to Magneto's plans."

"Which are?" It was Scott.

"He is planning to eliminate all who were responsible for the administration of the cure. All top level government officials, including the President. And not just here. He is planning a worldwide takeover."

Storm came into the conversation. "Then we need to form a strike force to handle this."

"Yes," agreed the Professor. "And we also need to find the whereabouts of Mystique and Rogue."

"Mystique?" Logan questioned.

"She escaped from prison three days ago, killing the guard that brought her food and clean bed linens. With her ability to morph it is proving hard to track her. We will use Cerebro to get a general location on them both. Storm, you, Logan and Moira accompany me to Cerebro. Scott, I need you to form a defensive strike team. Are you up to it?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Let's get started."

* * *

The mystery woman was saying something. Marie had been trying to ignore her. Half-heartedly, she responded.

"I'm sorry. You were saying something?"

"Yes. I asked 'Who do you know in San Francisco?'"

Marie shrugged. "Just a friend," and faced the front again. "I have business with him."

"Oh, so it's a male friend," Mystique said with a bit of intrigue in her voice. "Boyfriend, perhaps?"

Marie turned her head toward her for only a moment before saying, "No. It's strictly business. This is a much older gentleman."

There was a brief silence and the woman spoke again, turning in her seat to face Rogue. "I'm sorry," she began, "my name's Misty. You look as though something is bothering you."

Frowning, Marie glanced at her. She really did not want to discuss anything with the woman. "No, I'm fine, thank you," she said curtly.

'Misty' drug out the next phrase. "I don't know," she drawled, "I've seen this look before. There's something you don't want to talk about."

_You got that right, lady_, Marie thought. _Why don't you just leave me alone? My problems are none of your business. _But she answered with, "You're right. I don't."

Misty turned and adjusted herself in the seat, legs forward, right leg crossing the left. She fumbled with a broach she had found in the carryon bag. "You know, experts say that it's sometimes best to confide in a stranger. Strangers don't know you personally and may be able to offer some good advice."

Rogue thought over what the woman said. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea. "But how do I know that I can trust you?" she asked.

Mystique shook her head. "You don't," she replied. "You know what? Maybe it's not such a good idea. Maybe you just need to be alone with your thoughts." She paused long enough to let the girl think on that. "I just thought it might make you feel better." She leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes.

She considered everything the woman had said. The pain she felt inside was unbearable. But yet it felt as if it were something that didn't need to be shared. Should she tell her the whole story? Would it help her to share her feelings? She certainly wanted a shoulder to cry on. All her life it seemed that no one really cared for her. That's how she had become a runaway to begin with. She remembered that's how she met Logan. They were like brother and sister to some extent. Logan was somebody she could identify with. The image of Logan in her head brought about thoughts of trust. Rogue was leery of trusting most people. It seemed they wanted to only take advantage of her. Sitting in the seat across from her was a woman offering a sympathetic ear and she was turning it down.

"I'm sorry," she said to Misty. "It's just that it's all so confusing."

Misty sat up and turned to her, smiling. "What is, honey?"

Marie could feel the tears trying to start again. "I've done something terrible."

"Maybe it's not as bad as you let on."

She choked back a sob. "Oh, yeah, it is. It's really bad."

Misty was definitely intrigued. She turned ninety degrees in the seat to face Rogue. With concern in her voice, she asked, "What's really bad?"

Now Rogue turned to face her. "Can you keep a secret? I mean, no one absolutely _no one_ can ever find out what I'm going to tell you."

Mystique knew this was going to be good. "Trust me, honey. I'll take it to the grave with me."

They leaned in toward each other. Mystique tilted her head to give the girl the privilege of whispering in her ear if she wanted to. Marie took advantage of that opportunity. In a low voice, she said,

"I killed my boyfriend."

Mystique pondered the information presented to her. She looked at Marie who was now sitting upright. Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. You see, I'm a mutant. I'm not one of the 'bad' mutants. I have a power that allows me to drain someone else's from them. If I stay in contact with them long enough, I could possibly kill them."

"Possibly kill them?"

"In all probability I could. On the way to the bus station in New York I stopped a carload of boys from abducting me by grabbing on to the driver's wrist and activating my power. I felt his life draining into me and he was only a human. I could have killed him quickly."

"Do you know for sure that you killed the young man, your boyfriend I mean?"

Rogue had been able to control her emotions until now. The question brought flashes of Bobby lying on the bed gasping for air, the color of his skin very pale as the life had been nearly drained from him.

"Yes," she replied, lowering her eyes for a moment. "I watched him take his last breaths." A tear rolled down her cheek. "That was almost five days ago now. I left the area and I'm heading for California."

Mystique cut her a look that was full of questions. "Did you report the incident?"

Marie looked stunned. "Report it? To who?" She gathered her thoughts. "What good would it do? He's dead. That won't bring him back."

Mystique placed her hand on the girl's sleeve. "But it sounds like it was an accident. Unless you two were having an argument."

"No. Bobby didn't like to argue. He was always so kind to me. He said it didn't matter if we couldn't touch. He loved me anyway. He cared for me a lot."

"Sounds like a fine young man."

Rogue was wiping her eyes. Misty found a tissue in her carryon and handed it to her. Marie thanked her and wiped the tears from her cheek.

"_Was_," she said. "We were enjoying each other so much after I took the cure."

"Oh did you take that? I heard it did wonders for so many."

Marie shook her head. "No, it didn't. It was a fluke. There was no cure. It only lasted a few months. Bobby and I were, well, we were, you know."

"Making out?"

Marie's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. She had never discussed the intimate relationship she had with Bobby with anyone, especially not a total stranger. But at the same time the words from the woman's mouth made her smile.

"Yeah," she responded, a small laugh mingling in with her tears. "Yeah, we were."

Her tone then became melancholy. "That's when it happened."

"You two were embraced, and?"

"Yeah." She raised her eyebrows for an instant. "And."

Marie started crying liberally now, sobs breaking forth from her. "I'll never forget the look of shock on his face. It was sheer panic I saw in his eyes. It terrified me and I ran screaming from the room." She took a breath to calm herself. She gained control of herself before continuing.

"I've been running since. But I can't escape the nightmares. I see him every time I close my eyes. I think of him constantly in the daytime."

"What's in San Francisco? You said something about a friend out there."

Marie shook her head. "I lied. I really didn't want to talk so I made it up. I'm going to kill the man who caused all this."

"Someone in California put you up to this?"

Marie chuckled through the tears. "Yeah," she said cynically, "the man who thought up that stupid cure."

Mystique knew exactly the person the girl was talking about. "Warren Worthington?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why kill him?"

"This would have never happened if it hadn't been for him!"

"But he didn't force the cure on you. You took it willingly, right?"

Marie was astounded. She was looking for sympathy and confirmation that what she was doing was right and here this woman questions her intents.

"Yeah, but he invented it because he didn't like having a mutant for a son. From what I understand he even tried to force it on him. What kind of father would do that? Why can't we just be accepted as we are?"

Silence. Mystique knew about non-acceptance. She knew it all too well. If the girl knew who she was, she would have subdued her by now, or turned her in or something she supposed. But here was a golden opportunity to watch one of Xavier's precious X-Men commit a crime. Obviously the girl was distraught. And Mystique planned on capitalizing on it.

"You're right," she conceded. "It isn't fair that you are treated the way you are. I have many mutant friends. Several of them live in San Francisco. I can offer you a place to stay if you need one. I can even get transportation to Worthington Industries for you. It won't cost you anything."

Marie turned to face her. "You would help me?"

"No problem. You just say when. I'll even go with you to Worthington Industries."

"So what I'm doing, it's okay?"

Mystique tried to sound parental. "My dear, your boyfriend's death wasn't your fault. It's as you said. If that damned cure hadn't been invented, then none of this would've happened. Someone needs to pay and pay dearly for this injustice."

Rogue didn't know what to say. Calmly and rather taken aback, she said, "Thank you."

Misty patted the girl's arm again and turned in her seat, legs crossed. She looked pleased with herself.

_I can't wait to get to San Francisco,_ she thought.

* * *

Professor X, Storm, Logan and Doctor MacTaggart left the room housing Cerebro. Moira had been impressed with the technology. Xavier was able to locate mutants around the world with the device and an automatic program alerted the Professor when new mutant powers were emerging. Locating Mystique and Rogue proved a simple task. However, they did not expect the two to be traveling together. Storm was the first to speak.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it."

"Same here," Logan chimed in. "Marie must really be upset to take up with the likes of Mystique."

The Professor stopped their gathering rumors. "Now, that's enough, both of you," he chided. "They are on the same bus. That is true. However, that fact does not mean they're traveling together. Rogue may not even know that it is Mystique sitting next to her."

Ororo and Logan agreed with him. "Then what do we do?" asked Storm.

"We must bring her back here," Charles answered. "She does not know that Iceman is alright. In her state of mind she may be capable of anything. And _if_ she _is_ traveling to San Francisco with Mystique, then we need to find out what their plans are. According to the bus line schedule, they should be arriving in San Francisco in about five hours. We can be there before then in the Blackbird."

"Okay," said Storm. "I'll ready the plane."

Before she left for the hangar bay, Angel approached the group. "Professor, I think I know why she is going to San Francisco."

All eyes turned to him.

"What would that be, Warren?"

"My father was responsible for the vaccine that went sour. The government forced it on a lot of mutants."

"But many took it willingly," Logan stated.

"That's very true," Warren continued, "but it doesn't change the fact that their powers returned even stronger. There are a lot of people upset with him and his research team. It's remotely possible that she's headed for Worthington Industries."

The Professor considered what the young man was saying and nodded. "Very well. Storm, our destination is Worthington Industries. Warren, you're allowed to come with us if you want."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I was coming one way or another. That's my father out there. He understands us now. Unfortunately a lot of people and mutants don't understand him."

Logan spoke. "I'm going, too. I may be able to talk to Rogue. She and I have a kind of bond."

"Then it's set," Xavier said resolutely. "Scott is forming to defense team. We'll go to San Francisco and retrieve Rogue. From what I gather from intelligence reports and Cerebro, Magneto has yet to make a move on any government. Perhaps we can diffuse one situation before we're forced into another one. Moira, I appreciate all your help."

The woman bent to kiss him lightly on each cheek. "You are quite welcome, Charles. I plan on being here when you get back. If you need anything, I can contact my friend."

Charles smiled at her. "Thank you. Stay as long as you like. Let's go team."

Moira watched them head toward the hangar bay.

"Good luck, X-Men," she whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Dad's been in school. Just finished his associate's degree. Sorry for the long wait. It's short but to the point.**

He enjoyed this time of year in his homeland. Fall was nicer, with foliage changing colors and some of the first snows appearing. But autumn led to winter and Bavaria became blistery cold in those months. Summer was not a pleasure either for him due to some previous scorching temperatures.

But spring seemed to last an eternity for him. The snows began to melt and the large drifts across the country began to get smaller and smaller. The rivers started to rise because of the melting process and most streams overflowed their banks. A new system of barricades around these streams and rivers at the major overflow points had never helped, except to erode away the embankments which invariably made matters worse.

Yet the beauty of Bavaria always impressed him. It did not matter where he went in the world, no place was this beautiful. He knew it was due to his birth there, but he realized that many people felt the same way about their native home. He had seen some beautiful places, but none struck him the way Bavaria did in the spring of the year.

He had returned home to tend to his elderly surrogate mother. She had been ill for a couple of years and was now near death. It saddened him to know that she would no longer be there for him. Frankly, she had been the only one. His birth was repugnant to his natural mother, a woman he never knew. The story was his father rescued him from death and he had been given to a sorceress who practiced in a circus. He was well accepted there by all the other "freaks;" Circus people knew how hard it was on mutants. They were the only ones ever able to identify completely with the group due to their own strange idiosyncrasies and deformities.

They were the only ones to accept him as he was. Most knew him as Nightcrawler, a mutant from birth. Only a few called him by his real name, Kurt Wagner. Thanks to a device made for him by Charles Xavier, he had no longer to appear in public as a "freak." The image inducer gave him a "normal" human appearance. He had enjoyed using it. Returning home, though, he knew that Margali, his surrogate mother, would only accept his true form, so he did not use the inducer around her.

Months ago, though, the "cure" had been found. Kurt had taken it. It had not worked. Doctors were puzzled as to why he was not affected and ran many tests on him. Their discovery was that his genetic structure had been inherited from his birth mother and that the genetic profile they came up with from his DNA showed strong mutant traits dating back many generations. There was no cure for Kurt Wagner. Only the image inducer made him "human."

Disappointed, he had remained depressed for several weeks. He tried to console himself in his faith, but the "Why me?" syndrome seemed to hold him. He could not understand why it had to happen to him. Why did he have to be the "blue devil" as some had monikered him? It was on Margali's death bed that she said to him, "My boy, you are not a devil spirit. You, as everyone on earth, are here for a reason. Keep your faith. Learn and grow from it. Do not turn your back on your God, for He will never turn His back on you."

With that, she had closed her eyes and breathed her last. Kurt was still holding her hand kneeling beside the bed, his blue face and yellow eyes just above the mattress, looking up at her. He felt the death rattle as she inhaled her dying breath and watched her body go limp. A tear slid down his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned to kiss her hand. "Good-bye, mother," he whispered softly. "Sleep in peace. I will honor your request and never shirk my faith."

That was five days ago. Two days later, Margali was laid to rest in a mausoleum in a ornate tomb that Kurt provided for. He did not want her to be forgotten and had enshrined her in an elaborate tomb. He had told the funeral director that price was no object. He wanted the best for her. And she got what he wanted.

Now it was time to return to his comrades in America. The news had been all over the wire services. Magneto was back, stronger and more dangerous. The problem was nobody knew where he was. He had threatened every world leader and government and had threatened a new order, a mutant order, where mutants ruled and vowed to wipe humans from the face of the earth. Kurt somewhat understood where Magneto was coming from. Mutants were nothing more than circus freaks to most and were treated even worse. Only Hank McCoy seemed to do more for mutant rights than anyone as of late, but Kurt had seen the footage from the failed conference where hundreds had died and McCoy had barely escaped with his life. All this had happened right around the time of Margali's death. He had been too involved with her arrangements to leave, but now it was time.

Unfortunately, security was extremely tight the world over. Travel visas, passports, and the like were scrutinized carefully by all transportation security officials. Getting back to the States was not going to be easy, even though he could just as easily slip through security by his teleportation trait. The problem with that is the image inducer slowed down the teleportation process. If he were to teleport easily, he had to remain in his true form. Going out in public like that and being seen even for an instant would be detrimental to his task. Obvious mutants were being questioned at every turn, and those that were known mutants with human appearance were seemingly harassed even more, although according to governmental agencies it wasn't happening.

The question on everyone's minds, though, was "Where is Magneto?" It had been nearly a week since the tragedy in San Francisco's District X, and it was as though Eric Lensherr and his entourage had disappeared off the face of the earth. The upper level security agencies such as the FBI, CIA and even Scotland Yard were in a quandary over his whereabouts. The British group Intel had no idea either. Most figured he was "laying low," awaiting the perfect opportunity when security relaxed. He would not get the chance soon it seemed because top level officials continually changed security measures every day, including shift operations. It was meant to confuse the opponent and keep everyone on their toes, but it was really confusing to lower level personnel who could not keep up with a lot of the changes.

Kurt noticed this as he kept up with intelligence news reports that somehow "leaked" to news agencies. He shook his head at the latest security leak. _You must keep quiet,_ he thought. _Magneto is listening to all of this. He has intelligence, too. And you leaks are giving him ammunition._

No more so than as today. Nightcrawler was traveling to Munich to try to catch a flight out. Hopefully he would be in the United States within a day or two, depending on how well and fast air flight and security was. The trip was not a long one. He had some old circus friends that had retired in Bavaria about two hours out from Munich. The one he knew as "Boris the Russian Strong Man" gave him a ride to the airport. Kurt thought of how Boris might stand up to the X-Man known as Colossus in an arm wrestling competition. He smiled. _Or a real wrestling match, tussling with the organic steel behemoth on the ground, _he thought. _That would be amusing._ He knew who would possibly win, so he did not suggest it to the man.

The ride was on a beautiful day. Blue skies, very few clouds, and the fresh scent of newly budding flowers alongside the country road they traveled. Kurt thought about the lovely flowers along the route to the German chancellor's home. He had always enjoyed that route. It was fresh and vibrant with color and it warmed him to see such beauty in a country who was once war torn not so long ago. He had seen the old photographs and movie reels of that terrible time. Margali had told him of the holocaust where millions of Jews died at the hands of the Nazi regime all because they were not the "superior race." He saw how Hitler had treated them and anyone who threatened him, even his own military commanders who knew the Fuhrer had to be insane. Kurt was also familiar with Eric Lensherr's past, how he was interned in one of those prison camps and assisted killing thousands of Jews. He lowered his head and eyes with the thought, thinking now how Eric was doing exactly what he had hated then, killing the "inferior race," and anyone who sided with them. _He has come full circle, _Kurt thought. _The student has become the "master race."_

"Boris?"

Boris glanced at him. "Yeah, bud, what is it?"

"Can we take the long way to the airport?"

"Sure, my friend. Where do you want to go?"

"I want to go by the chancellor's house."  
Boris smiled. "The flowers?"

Kurt looked straight ahead deep in thought. "Yes," he responded, "and perhaps something else."

The drive through the Bavarian countryside was not as relaxing to Kurt as it normally was. Perhaps it was the recent events in his life that occupied his thoughts but it seemed to be something more. He had developed an uneasy feeling about the trip even though he knew it was what he had to do. He spoke aloud his thoughts and surprised Boris.

"No," he stated, "it's not that. There's a feeling in the air."

"What?" Boris responded.

Kurt turned to face him. "What?" he echoed.

Boris kept his eyes on the road. "You said something about a feeling in the air?"

He did not think he had said it aloud. "It is nothing," he replied.

Boris relaxed behind the wheel hoping the gesture would help relax Kurt. "Come on, Kurt," he said, "I know you better than that. Something's bothering you."

Kurt straightened in the seat. "I have a feeling that the chancellor is in trouble," he said.

"You sure?" he queried.

Kurt gathered his thoughts. "Yes, yes, I am quite sure. Speed up, will you? We may already be too late."

Boris gunned the accelerator and the car's passing gear kicked in, increasing their speed abruptly and pushing them back into their seats.

The situation looked normal as they approached the chancellor's residence. Guards had been posted every fifty feet around the perimeter. Getting in that property would be difficult for anyone, Kurt imagined. The smell of all the flowers in the area filled the air. Kurt inhaled deeply, enjoying the varied aromas. To him, this was one of the prettiest areas in all Bavaria. A veritable cascade of flowers existed here, most of them well kept by the local German government utility employees.

He did not enjoy the fragrances long, however, for as they neared the chancellor's house, an explosion rocked the area. The guards in front of the house were mostly thrown into the street, while others fell where they stood. Boris slammed on the brakes and he and Nightcrawler watched in horror as the chancellor's house exploded. A large piece of the front siding barely missed the car thanks to Boris' quick action. Debris was flying everywhere and sirens were now going off. Kurt looked at the sidewalk in front of the house and noticed that several guards lay dead and others bleeding. Two or three in the street were slowly getting up. A massive cloud of smoke and flame rose in the air from where the house had stood.

Kurt and Boris got out and helped the nearest guard to his feet.

"Are you all right?" Kurt asked.

The guard rubbed his aching head. "Ya, I will be fine, mein herr, but the chancellor. . ." his voice trailed off.

Boris queried him. "What about the chancellor?"

Boris and Kurt were stunned speechless when the guard said, "He was in there."

* * *

"So what happened to your parents?" Misty asked. The trip to San Francisco was almost over. The two had sat quietly for about an hour. Now Mystique was inquiring about the girl's past, one she already knew.

"I'm not sure," Marie responded. "My Aunt Carrie took me in after some tragedy befell them. I didn't stay long. I ran away. I ran into my first mutants who soon became what I call my surrogate parents." She chuckled.

"What's funny?"

Marie sighed and continued. "I was thinking of the irony of it all. My surrogate parents were two mutants named Mystique and Destiny. Mystique was a bad sort with blue skin and a terrible temper and devious mind. Destiny was a little better, but could really take you down in the heat of battle. Anyway, they were the only ones who ever seemed to care about me."

"Mystique? Isn't she the one that ran with Magneto?"

Rogue grinned, looking forward. "Yeah, until he deserted her when she got hit with the cure and was no longer a mutant. She was put in a maximum security women's facility not long ago."

Misty changed the subject. "So how long have you had that power?"

Marie sighed again. "Since I was a teenager. I'll never forget when I discovered it." She paused, the painful memory returning seemingly to haunt her again. "There was this boy I liked a lot. His name was Cody Robbins. Finally one day he kissed me." Another pause. "It was my first kiss." She lowered her eyes, remembering. "All of a sudden my mind was filled with _his _memories. I broke the kiss, but it was too late. He slipped into a coma and I don't think he ever came out of it."

Mystique put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "That must be terrible," she said sympathetically.

"Thanks," came the reply. "I still have all those memories. I don't lose them. Once I absorb anything from a person it becomes a permanent part of me."

There was a pause in their conversation, then Marie spoke again.

"I took up with Mystique's group, the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. We did basically whatever we wanted for a while."

Mystique was intrigued with what the girl remembered. She was not so impressed with Rogue's description of her, though. She tried probing deeper questions. "Do you remember much about that?"

Rogue chuckled again. "Oh, yeah. It wasn't that long ago. It's not something I'm proud of. It felt wrong sometimes. About like what I'm attempting to do now. But I guess I still have some criminal element in me to want to see Worthington dead.

"I joined up with the X-Men not too far back. I wanted a change from running. That's what it felt like when I was with the Brotherhood. We were always running, hiding. Besides, the first and last battle I was in with the 'good guys' turned me off. I ended up in a fight with the one they called Ms. Marvel."

"Who won?"

Marie frowned. "I did. I absorbed all her abilities and memories."

"What happened to Ms. Marvel?"

"I think she's still around. I'm not real sure." Marie shook her head. "It doesn't matter now anyway. That's in the past. What's done is done."

"You sound like you're having second thoughts about this vendetta trip you're on."  
_Vendetta?_ Marie looked at the woman. She had had second thoughts for a while now. This was the same woman who said she'd help just a short while ago, isn't it? Marie knew it was, but the word "vendetta" was like a cold slap in the face. She had never considered what she was doing as a vendetta. She supposed she had stared too long when Misty spoke.

"What? You never considered that, did you?"

Marie lied outright. "Yeah, I did," she said resolutely. She turned from Mystique and searched the bus floor with her eyes as if an answer were to be found there. "I want him dead." Even as she said the words, a cold chill ran through her. She allowed it to pass. With more resolve, knowing without it that she could not go through with it, she said, "I want Warren Worthington Jr. dead."

Then she added, "By my hands."

Mystique turned away from the girl and smiled.

Two hours later the bus pulled into the major terminal for San Francisco.


	10. Chapter 10

**Finally, chapter ten! Sorry for the delay, but senior college is tough!**

The news reports seemed to be pouring in from all over the world. Professor Xavier had the satellite feed on in the Blackbird, and everyone was gathered around the console. Storm had put the stealth jet on autopilot to join them. A reporter was talking. The scene was Germany, Bavaria to be exact, showing what was left of the Chancellor's home.

"This is the scene now," she was saying, "just hours after the Chancellor's house was demolished in a massive explosion. Official reports now confirm that the Chancellor was home when the attack occurred.

"We now switch scenes to Paris, where the Prime Minister's residence was destroyed." The video showed another house in flames. "And in Great Britain, also, the House of Parliament was decimated by a huge blast. Several members of the House of Commons were in the building when the explosion occurred." Even more video from London showed the streets around Parliament lined with debris. Ambulances and firefighters were all over as well as the police.

Xavier shook his head slightly. "It's begun," he sighed. "We cannot help those who have lost their lives," he continued, "but we can be sure to help protect those in danger now."

He flipped the communications switch on his console.

"Xavier to Scott."

_"Go ahead, Professor."_

"Is the strike team ready? How many people do we have?"

_"We've got almost everyone here at the Academy. That's a total of seventy. We've heard the reports coming in. We'll need more than what we got to cover every major official that we need to cover."_

"Yes, Scott, I agree. I will contact Hank McCoy. He can get some mutant help around the world. They will listen to him. He'll know who to put where. I'll also contact President Cockrum and let him know we're ready with a task force to combat Magneto. I will suggest that he allow some of you to cover government officials. You should be prepared to cover the President yourself, Scott."

_"Yes, sir, Professor."_

Professor X cut off the comm switch and turned to Storm. "How long until we reach San Francisco?"

"Within half an hour."

"Good. That will give me time to contact McCoy and the President. I suggest we head directly for Worthington Industries, Storm. There is a landing pad on the roof that should support the Blackbird."

"Yes, sir," she responded, and headed for the pilot's chair.

* * *

Rogue and Misty had departed the bus station and had hailed a cab to take them to Worthington Industries. Now en route to her destination, Marie started having second thoughts again. Her past experiences flooded her memory. She was silent for most of the trip, opting to stare out the window rather than talk.

Mystique noticed how silent the girl was, and was sure there were second thoughts racing through Rogue's head. _What if we get there and she changes her mind?_ she thought. She snickered to herself. _Then I'll have to take out the bastard myself._

The trip took a while. Traffic downtown was heavy. It was nearly evening before the cab pulled up in front of the Worthington building.

"Here ya are, ladies. Worthington Industries. Looks like they're about to close," the cabbie said.

Misty handed him a wad of cash. "It doesn't matter," she said. "We're friends of the owner. Thank you."

The two women stepped onto the curb from the cab, which sped off rather quickly. Marie was looking up at the building's top floor. Misty joined her gaze for a moment then looked at her. "Are you ready for this?" she asked.

Marie thought for a moment with her head still tilted back. She lowered her gaze to the ground before she spoke. "I . . . uh . . .Misty, I'm not sure anymore."

Misty turned Rogue to face her. Rogue's eyes were still looking down. "Look at me," Misty commanded.

Rogue slowly looked at the woman. Mystique put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "You can do this. The bastard deserves it. He was playing God and look what happened. Your boyfriend is dead. It's his fault. If he hadn't 'invented' a 'cure,' your boyfriend would still be here. Magneto would not be running around with a group of rogue mutants attempting to kill people again. Warren Worthington Jr. has to die."

_Has to die._ The words echoed in Marie's head. But wouldn't she be playing God if she took this man's life? She stared at Misty in silence. Undaunted by the silence, Misty turned the girl toward the door of the building and walked her inside. Rogue mechanically moved her feet as Misty gently nudged her forward.

Inside, the security guard asked their business and if they had an appointment. Unsettled by their answers (and lack of the same), he foolishly turned his back on them to check his appointment list. Instantly Mystique lunged on him and delivered a blow to the back of his neck that sent him sprawling unconscious. Rogue stared at her in disbelief.

"Self defense," she mused. "He wasn't going to let us in. Come on. We've got a mission to perform."

Rogue was still staring at her. Misty knew why.

"Self defense class? Karate? I take care of myself." She grabbed Rogue's sleeved arm. Come on."

They headed toward the elevator.

* * *

On the forty-second floor of Worthington Industries, Warren Worthington, Jr. was watching the news reports cascading in. Deep inside, he felt responsible for what was happening. If the cure had worked the way it was supposed to have worked, none of this would be taking place. Magneto would not exist as a powerful mutant, and none of his minions would be out again for world domination. He had a sinking feeling that they may come after him eventually for inventing the vaccine. He looked at his watch. Nearly six o'clock. He pushed the remote's off button and the large screen went blank. Rising from his seat behind the executive-size desk, he proceeded to file papers into his briefcase. The elevator ping caught his attention. _Probably just Charlie making the first evening rounds,_ he thought.

"Good evening, Charlie," his voice rang out.

No answer, which was unusual. Charlie normally answered immediately. He closed the briefcase.

"Charlie?"

Still no answer. Lifting the briefcase from the desk, he turned toward the door. The appearance of two women at the door startled him. One was nicely dressed; the other was wearing some sort of gang-like jacket and had a white area of hair flowing down her face. He felt the fear in his gut.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Where's Charlie?"

The nicely dressed one answered the question, smiling. "We gave him the night off. We have business with you, Mr. Worthington," she said, walking casually into the room. Worthington backed away from her approach as he saw he other woman timidly follow behind the other. The door to the lab was just a few feet behind him. If he could make it there, he might be able to escape.

"What kind of business? I don't know either of you."

"No, I suppose not," the first woman said, "but you'll understand when you hear our story." She stopped advancing. Worthington was almost to the door. Obviously they hadn't noticed it. The first woman turned to the second one. "Tell him," she said.

Warren, Jr. looked at her. She looked at her companion, looked at him. She spoke.

"My name is Marie. I'm a mutant."

Fear slid down from his head and ran through his body, pitted in his stomach. _Oh, god_, he thought. _They're here to kill me._ He clenched the briefcase in front of himself like a shield though mentally he knew that was probably no defense against them. Marie continued.

"You killed my boyfriend."

Even as the words came out of her mouth, she felt the tremble in her body. _You killed my boyfriend_ echoed in her head. Suddenly the vision of Bobby laying on her bed, looking at her with agony on his face, a death agony she still remembered, became clear in her head. The word she just spoke took on new meaning. Her purpose for coming cleared. Second thoughts left her mind.

Warren stared at her, an inquisitive look appearing on his face. "I killed your boyfriend?"

Marie's voice was stern. "What you did to me killed him. I took your so-called cure. I thought I could now have a normal life." Her voice trembled and Warren noticed it. The girl was upset and angry. "But it wore off. I was holding him when it happened. I absorbed his life-force. He died in my arms and it's all because of your damned cure." She took a step toward him.

He turned and bolted for the lab door, catching both women off-guard. He was through and had securely locked it before they were able to stop him. He leaned against it and breathed out, feeling safe.

On the other side of the door, Misty was slamming hard against it to no avail. The double bolt was too strong. She looked at Rogue. "There's another entrance. Let's find it before he gets away." She grabbed the girl by the arm again and literally pulled her along until Marie could regain a semblance of balance.

The Blackbird had settled on the roof's helicopter pad. It was almost too large for the pad and Storm thought she heard the building's upper supports groan at the weight of the craft. She lowered the tail ramp for disembarkation. Each team member scanned the area for signs of any danger before proceeding to the control room and elevator. Warren III was speaking.

"Dad's office is on the forty-second floor. If he's here, that's where he'll be. The lab is just off his office."

"Good. Thank you 'Angel'," the Professor said, taking position in between Wolverine and Storm. Warren III followed them.

In the lab, Warren, Jr. had straightened himself and was getting ready to try to leave when the two women burst through the lab's hallway door. He backed up, realizing that he would not escape the way he came because of the bolted lock on the door. He would not be able to open before they reached him. Fortunately, though, there were a lot of lab tables between them. Catching him wasn't going to be easy.

Misty smiled anyway. "Going somewhere?" she asked slyly. Her expression changed to one of anger. "I don't think so."

Warren tensed, waiting for her to pounce like a cat on a mouse. Instead, the woman calmly leaned against one of the tables. She looked at the fingernails on her left hand while her right crossed her chest.

"Then again, this isn't my fight," she said. She pointed to Marie, nodded her head in the girl's direction. "It's hers."

He turned his eyes to Marie who was standing in the doorway blocking any means of escape. He was holding the briefcase again like a shield in front of him, watching her. Her steps were slow and deliberate, eyeing him as she slowly removed the long glove on her left arm. She tilted her head slightly to the right, and then straightened it.

"All I have to do," she was saying, "is touch you. I can drain the life right out of you."

Fear filled him. He walked backwards until he felt the door on his back. He glanced at the other woman off to his right. She stepped back toward the open door to block his exit. He slid along the wall with Marie approaching from his left. Misty was enjoying this scene.

"That's it, Marie," she seemingly sang out. "Make his fear last. Make him panic before death."

Marie glanced at her briefly, but it was long enough for Worthington to get two table widths between them. Misty shook her head. "Thought you were better than that, girl. Look where he is."

Marie crouched slightly, started walking toward him again. "I thought you were going to help."

"I am. Don't I have the door blocked?"

Suddenly and without any warning, the bolted door to Worthington's office shattered, blowing fragments into the lab. All three ducked, sheltering themselves from flying debris, one with a briefcase and two with their arms. When the debris stopped, all three parties looked toward the now shattered door and noticed a man standing there holding several knives in each hand. Rogue recognized him immediately, as did Misty.

"Logan?" Marie said.

"Yeah, kid."

"Rogue," said a familiar voice.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Marie, it's the Professor."

Warren looked befuddled, and then knew who he was looking at. _Oh, no. More mutants._

"Marie," the Professor was saying, "you must not do this."

"I have to, Professor. He killed Bobby. It's his fault Bobby's dead."

Storm stepped into the room. "No, Marie," she said. "Bobby's not dead. He's alive. Logan and I reached him in time. He's going to be okay."

Silence. No one said anything. Marie's thoughts raced. These were people who trusted her. They had never lied to her before. Yet something inside would not let go of that vision in her bedroom. She glanced at Worthington, then Misty, and returned to look at Storm, Wolverine and the Professor. She turned to Misty.

"What should I do?" She asked the question in general, not particularly at any one person.

Wolverine snarled, his claws still out. "Don't ask her, Rogue. That's Mystique."

Rogue shot him a look then glared at Misty in disbelief. "No." She shook her head. "It can't be, Logan. I would have known." She turned to Worthington, her eyes seemingly searching for an answer anywhere in the room.

The Professor spoke. "Rogue, she's deceived you. Let us help you."

She turned to face him. "No. You think I'm making a mistake. How do I know you're not lying now to protect him? What he did killed Bobby!"

Calmly and almost patronizingly, Storm said, "No, honey, it's okay. Bobby's okay."

Rogue shook her head, eyes down, as though afraid to look in the woman's for fear of seeing the truth. "No, you're lying. He deserves to die. What he did to me isn't fair." Tears fell from her eyes to the floor.

Softly, the Professor called her name. "Marie."

Marie shook herself and stomped her foot, head still down. "NO!" she shouted, sobbing. "Shut-up! I don't want to hear anymore!"

She had made it around to the aisle that Warren, Jr. was standing on. "It's not fair," she said, reaching out with her left hand. Mystique watched the scene intently.

Wolverine appeared behind Worthington. He positioned himself between the man and Rogue. "Life's not fair, kid," he said, retracting his claws. Warren headed for the other side of the room away from all of them. Mystique still blocked the door.

Rogue looked up at him with clenched teeth through her sobs. "Yeah, Logan? Really? How do you know what's fair and what's not? Huh? You don't know anything about my past."

She jerked slightly when she heard the SNIKT! of the blades extracting from his hands. He held them up before her. "_These_ tell me life's not fair, kid. I'm stuck with 'em. Forever. I'm stuck with an adamantium skeleton. Forever. I regenerate. I can't die. Forever. And I've died and I've died and died. Over and over again. But I don't. I come back. My body heals faster and faster. I feel all the pain. But I can't die! And there're times I want to. I wanted to die on Alcatraz when I had to…take Jean's life. Somehow, a part of I guess what you call my soul died when she did. But I go on living."

Her sobbing had stopped. She was listening intently. Her heart turned sympathetic.

"How do you deal with the pain? I..I can't deal with the pain, Logan."

"You gotta be strong, kid. You have to move on." He paused. "Storm's telling the truth. Bobby's okay. I carried him to the infirmary. He's gonna be fine."

The tears started afresh. "Really?" she asked.

"Really."

Rogue's shoulders slumped to a relaxed pose, no longer defensive. "I almost did something terrible," she cried.

A thought that was not common to him entered his mind. He retracted his claws and held out his arms. "C'mere, kid," he said as compassionately as he could.

Rogue was impressed and touched by his gesture. She took two long strides and embraced him being careful not to touch his flesh with her bare arm. The Professor and Storm smiled. Warren III had entered the room and was approaching his father.

Misty appeared frustrated. "Damn all of you," she declared. "You little wimp," she addressed Rogue. "If you won't take him out, I will." That said, Misty's appearance changed abruptly. Suddenly there was no longer a well dressed woman standing in the lab, but a blue-skinned mutant. As soon as she changed to her natural appearance, she lunged at Warren Worthington, Jr. Storm was still by the Professor at the shattered door. Wolverine had just broken his embrace of Rogue and bared his claws. Angel was out of position, too, and would not reach his father in time.

The only one who had the slightest chance was Rogue. It wasn't Wolverine who broke the embrace, but her. She screamed, "NO!" and turned and leapt across a lab table toward Mystique. Rogue caught her in mid air with a cross body tackle that sent both women to the floor. Angel reached his father and pulled him back to where the Professor and Storm were. Wolverine watched from his vantage point a table away. Both women rolled after hitting the floor and came up into crouching stances facing each other. Wolverine started to move toward them. Rogue stopped him.

"Back off, Logan," she commanded. "She's mine." Logan noticed she barked the order without ever breaking eye contact with Mystique. He nodded and slowly backed his way to the Professor. "She's all yours, kid."

Mystique's eyes never broke contact with Rogue's while listening intently to every word that Wolverine said. She learned long ago not to take her eyes off the opponent she was facing. But then, looking at the young girl before her, she figured she did not have much of an opponent.

"Oh, please," she chided, "don't tell me you figure to take me. You're a mere child." She slowly moved to her left in a circular motion.

Rogue copied her movement to the right. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Mystique. I've grown. My powers are greater than they ever were."

Mystique smiled. "So are mine."

Rogue shook her head. "But yours are the power of illusion. That won't do you much good in a fight."

"A fight?" Mystique stifled a laugh. "With you? You've got to be kidding."

"I intend on taking you down."

The blue woman shrugged her shoulders. "Then I guess I have to teach you a lesson in respecting your elders…and your betters."

Rogue smiled. "You're not my 'better.'

"We'll see," she said, appearing to momentarily relax. Suddenly Mystique swung a roundhouse kick right towards Marie's face. The girl dodged and Mystique turned completely around. Rogue grabbed the opportunity as the woman's back was to her to leap onto her and wrap her arms around the woman. Unable to shake her off, Mystique leaned slightly forward and lunged backward, letting her feet come out from under her. Rogue continued to hold on even though she was about to land flat on her back with Mystique on top of her. In the few moments before impact, she drew in a deep breath. And just in time, as Mystique's weight came crushing down on her as she collided with the floor. She tightened her grip instead of loosening it. Her left hand was still ungloved but nowhere near Mystique's flesh. Mystique arms were somewhat free and she proceeded to elbow the girl in the ribs.

"Let me go!" she yelled.

"No way!" Rogue groaned back. While maintaining her grip with her right arm and legs, she repositioned her left arm and Mystique saw that ungloved hand coming near her face. She grabbed it with her right which is what Rogue wanted her to do. A soon as contact was made, Mystique felt the energy drain start. Immediately she released the girl's arm. That encouraged Rogue to go for her face. Mystique continued to jab Rogue's left ribs with her elbow, trying to knock the breath out of the girl.

Rogue's hand made contact with the woman's right cheek and she clamped down. A scream from Mystique indicated what was happening. Her eyes were wide in agony as she felt the life energy draining from her. Behind her, Rogue's eyes were closed tight. She was feeling every bit of anger and fear the woman had inside. Memories from the woman flooded her mind. As the Professor and the others watched, Rogue's skin started to turn a light shade of blue, while Mystique's seemed to be paling. Soon the struggle slowed, as Rogue absorbed more of Mystique's power. It wasn't long before Mystique was white-skinned and Rogue was a deep shade of blue. She broke her grip on the woman and rolled her off to the side.

Slowly she stood to her feet, breathing heavy and holding her left side. The Professor and Storm approached her with Wolverine and Warren III bringing up the rear.

Grimacing, she said, "I think she bruised a rib."

Wolverine was the first to speak. "Great job, kid."

Taking a deep breath and breathing out while slightly bent over, Rogue said, "Thanks. I don't think she'll be a bother for a while."

The Professor spoke. "We'll have to get her to a mutant containment facility rather quickly before what you did wears off."

A sound behind Rogue had the girl turn. Kneeling next to Mystique with a hypodermic in his hand was Warren Worthington II. He looked up at them. "It's the vaccine. It'll keep her in this condition until you can get her to that facility. The effects will eventually wear off, but at least she'll be where she can't hurt anyone."

Storm and Logan exchanged glances. The Professor said nothing. Rogue turned around to look at them all. "Now what?" she said nonchalantly.

"We need to contact Scott and check on the progress of tracking Magneto," Xavier said.

"Magneto?" Rogue queried.

"He's returned, with a vengeance," Storm told her.

The Professor looked at her. "We'll brief you in the Blackbird on our way out."

"And Scott?" she asked.

Wolverine responded. "He's alive." He looked at her blue skin. "How long until that wears off?"

Marie held up her left arm and studied it, then smiled at Logan. "Neat, isn't it?" She turned her arm admiring the blueness. "I think I like it."

Logan rolled his eyes.

She put her arm down and grinned. "I'm picking. It'll wear off in a few hours." She paused. "Maybe a day. I really latched onto her."

The Professor stopped. "You know," he said, "if that lasts a day, we could use it to our advantage."

Storm was inquisitive. "How so?"

"I don't think Magneto knows that Mystique is loose. We could set up for them to meet."

Angel chimed in, "But we don't know exactly where he is."

The Professor looked at him. "But we have a way of finding out."

Storm asked, "Cerebro?"

Professor Xavier nodded. "With some minor adjustments. I could not get a fix on his location earlier." He turned to Warren II. "Can you handle getting the authorities here to take her into custody? And make sure word doesn't leak out who it is?"

Worthington nodded. "No problem."

"Let's go, team. We have a megalomaniac to apprehend."


	11. Chapter 11

**My dad is really sorry it's been over a year. Senior college has been really tough on him. But for now, he and I both hope you enjoy this latest chapter!**

The schematics were laid out across the table in the White House situation room. President David Cockrum and his homeland security director, Boliver Trask, were studying the drawings. At the far end of the table was the mutant defense proposal, a 350 page document. Cockrum was talking, pointing to the most recent schematic that he was being shown.

"And how huge are these things, Bo?"

Trask straightened himself. "That's the beauty of these new units, Mr. President," he said. "No one model is over six-and-a-half feet tall."

"And they have all the capabilities of the older models?"

"No, these are much different from the older models. With newer technology, we've made lots of changes to these. Firepower is improved. Visual acuity and infrared scans are better. And there's no lumbering over city buildings. These things are capable of infiltrating buildings and taking out unfriendlies whereas the older relics had to topple a building to get to the targets, or, at least, bring the building down on them."

President Cockrum folded his arms across his chest and silently sighed while staring at the drawings. "And how much will one of these cost?"

Trask joined his boss' pose. "A lot cheaper than one of the originals." He nodded toward the drawing. "We can buy ten of these as compared to one of the originals."

David Cockrum was silent for a moment. He turned his head to look at Trask.

"Congress wants to see the proposal tomorrow, along with schematics. Are we prepared?"

Bolivar turned his head to the President. "Yes, sir. Completely. We have power points of the entire presentation."

"And the government contractor can attend?"

"Yes, sir."

"Contact him and tell him to be here at eight in the morning." Cockrum left the situation room. Trask started to pick up and arrange all the schematics.

"Yes, sir." As soon as he finished, he made a phone call.

* * *

The blue hand around his throat tightened as it pushed him back against the wall. 

"I asked politely. You just didn't listen. Now I'm mad. **Where is he??**"

Her victim gasped for air. "I don't know," he stammered.

The woman loosened her grip slightly and then slammed the man back against the wall again. She got her face right up to his, nose to nose. She smiled.

"I think you're lying. You know exactly where he is. But you're stupid. You'd rather die and protect him. Well, I'm the one who'll cause that death." She raised him up slightly off the ground. Fear shown in his eyes as her grip on his throat tightened. His hands went up in front of him in a gesture of surrender.

"Wai…wait, Mystique. Please. I . . . I know where he is. Please don't do this."

She held him in place, her grip relaxed off his throat. She eyed him, then set a determined look on her face. "No. No, you're lying again. Now you just want to save your life." Her eyes seemed to flame with anger. "I'm not a fool!"

His scream was almost inaudible due to her hand tightening around him again.

"Please!" he yelled. "Please, don't. I'll tell you everything."

Mystique stopped the choking maneuver, lowered him to the ground. The look on his face convinced her that he was telling the truth. "Out with it, before I change my mind."

"It's a place he always thought about, remember? He said if he could ever settle down and retire from this, he would go there. Arthur's Seat."

Mystique glared at him. He was almost kneeling before her now. "Honest, Mystique, I'm telling the truth."

She stared at him for another moment. "I know you are," she grinned, then kicked him across his right temple, sending him sprawling to the ground. She walked away. Out of the shadows of the adjacent alley, Wolverine approached her. She grinned at him. He looked back at the man on the ground.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"I don't know," 'Mystique' answered. "Some petty thief mutant I used to see hang around with some of the badder crowd. He always had good information on things, though."

Logan shook his head and grinned. "Damn, kid, I didn't think you had it in ya."

She looked at him and smiled as they entered the car she had borrowed. "I had a good teacher," she said, starting the engine and speeding off.

* * *

Eric had sat watching the news reports flooding in, smiling. _Fools,_ he thought. Their only thoughts pertained to his location and how could he attack so many places at once? He walked casually to the kitchen from the living room, opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of water. 

"It's now time," he said aloud, "to determine my next move." He unscrewed the cap from the bottle and raised it to his lips. A voice startled him from behind and he nearly dropped the bottle.

"Your next move," the voice said, "is to incorporate me into your plans."

Eric turned toward the sound and saw no one. His mind raced. Who could sneak up on him? "Who's there?"

The shadows of the hallway moved. A dark cloaked figure emerged. "You cannot do this alone anymore. The X-Men will stop you. You need my help. I have a vast network of loyal followers."

The master of magnetism eyed the stranger suspiciously. The figure's name escaped his lips.

"Doom."

* * *

"What makes you think I need your help?"

Victor von Doom walked into kitchen and seated himself in a chair at the small table there, crossing his legs, and looking relaxed. "As I told you, the X-Men will stop you. They have before. This last time you were nearly killed. You don't know the type of power you're dealing with."

Eric eyed him suspiciously. He crossed to the table and set the bottle of water on it, momentarily removing his eyes from von Doom and toying with the bottle. He smiled, and then slowly returned his attention to the cloaked figure.

"On the contrary, Victor," he said, "I know _exactly_ what I'm dealing with."

"Do you? Honestly?" Doom replied, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up to the man.

Victor didn't say a word.

Doom reclined in the chair again. He chuckled. "Honestly, Eric, how long have we known each other?'

Magneto walked away from the table to the counter. He positioned his back against it, facing von Doom. "Most would say too long."

"Most," Doom replied, "would be right." He sat upright. "I've known you many years, Eric. I know of almost all of your experiments with magnetism since you gained the power. I know of the triumphs. And I know of the failures. I know all about your past with Charles Xavier, too."

Eric tilted his head slightly. "And what of it?" he said, a little too defensively.

"You two were close friends. Now he's the enemy."

Eric's composure went solemn. "He's dead," he said quietly, almost a grieving sound to his voice. He realized in that moment that he missed his friend.

Behind the mask, von Doom smiled, hoping his eyes didn't give him away.

"No, Eric, he's alive."

The words slowly sunk into Magneto's mind. Alive. Could it be? He knew it was possible, perhaps. He shook his head.

"You're wrong, Doom. If you know so much about me, then you know that I was there at that house when it happened." With a nod of his head, he reaffirmed what he said earlier. "He's dead."

Doom stood, slowly walking toward the man. Eric quit leaning against the counter and crossed his arms in front of him. Doom stopped just a few feet from him. He spoke with determination and knowledge in his voice.

"Physically, yes. His body no longer exists. But his soul, his spirit, if you will, lives on."

The arms remained folded across his chest as he listened. When Doom had finished, he shook his head, slowly closing, then reopening his eyes. "You're talking a disembodied spirit? What good is that?" He moved away from the man and headed toward the living room. Doom turned to face him.

"He's not disembodied. He's taken form."

Magneto stopped. "What do you mean?"

"You know Moira MacTaggert? One of his best friends? It was the patient she had at her facility. He's mobile now. In San Francisco, I believe."

"Get to your point, Doom."

"They know you're here."

Eric turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Here," he said, pointing at the floor. "At Arthur's Seat. And they're coming for you."

Eric stood silent. Von Doom approached him.

"So now will you listen?"

Eric remained silent.

"You don't have much time."

Eric blinked, and eyed the man. "On the contrary, my friend," he said, putting a hand on Doom's shoulder and leading him to the living room, "we have plenty of time. We shall set up a nice welcome for them. Remain here while I prepare myself. Then we shall leave."

Victor watched him ascend the stairs. "To where?" he asked.

Eric stopped just long enough to answer. "Away from here."


End file.
